


When the South met the North

by thatdragonchic



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Allisaac, Civil War era, F/M, Isaac Lahey Feels, Minor Allison Argent/Isaac Lahey/Scott McCall, Plot, Porn With Plot, Scallison, Stiles is a lawyer, Stydia, and get married, eventually stydia does it, gay theo, i guess, intended scallison, period drama, sad theo plot, scallison and allisaac drama, stydia angst, stydia fluff if it gets far enough, stydia period drama, theo raeken - Freeform - Freeform, theo's gay, war times eventually
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-28
Updated: 2017-05-06
Packaged: 2018-06-05 02:40:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 65
Words: 225,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6685906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatdragonchic/pseuds/thatdragonchic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles could swear it, the Martin's moved in on a Sunday and they only mean to sit on the good name of the southern people- priding their name like male peacocks with their feathers flushed out. And yet, he has no way of avoiding it, Lydia Martin is now his future wife to be and right before a senctionalist war breaks out and Stiles was always known to fight for what he believes<br/>---<br/>comments are appreciated! If you wanna reach me further about the story or whatever my tumblr is allineedcd</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Test Dummy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [My best friend Dina](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=My+best+friend+Dina).



> Has been decided to be continued~! This first chapter was the dummy of the real first chapter next, you can read this if you're interested. Though I'm leaving it for purposes of my own.  
> Anyways! I do hope you enjoy, leave good vibes in the comments!  
> Thanks for the support guys <3

Lydia Martin was a city girl from the north and everyone knew it, the room going deaf with silence as she walked in with her little family, their grandeur greater than any room and everyone eyed them as if they had caught their scent walking in through the doorways. She was a beauty in a hoop skirt decorated with layers of arched fabric and flowers, the pink petticoat covering her corset top was bedazzled with gold buttons, making her look like she were worth millions and her flesh as flushed as her gown. 

Stiles wanted no part of her, no part of this girl who claimed beauty and entered the room with her head raised like a queen. He saw her in the town three days prior to the party and she walked like a god amongst men- she was the devil masked with a pretty face and a beautiful body, the wind in his lungs caught knowing that if his mother caught sight of her- and most surely she had- his prospects of an arranged marriage to who must be the most beautiful girl in all of the thirteen states had gone up by 100% and this girl was destined to be his coming bride, he had no choice in the matter, he could make no effort to deny but yet he knew she was trouble begging to happen. Every girl with claim on him in this room had her claws out, they hated her the minute they saw that Stiles head turned, even if he watched her with spite he had absentmindly picked sides and agreed with his mother that this was the girl he’d be picking and she was not. 

Though as if to divert attention, the halted crowd, still gazing and whispering at the family- trying to find out who had invited such people to a southerners party, in which no northerner had any place- Stiles stood and approached Karen Rothman, the adorable blonde with stuck up curls and pouty lips but no sufficient enough body to truly catch any man besides her counterparts attention or perhaps desperate older ones, and took her by the hand to escort her to dance. 

“May I, miss?” He offered and her flirtatious giggle filled the room and as if on command of his request, life breathed into the room once more and dancing, joyous laughter and talk filled the air again, leaving the Martins isolated and finding a place, though Lydia, in the waking of all that’s happened in two moments found herself thankful for the beautiful man that had started the affair of the party again and she wished to thank him. 

Though the air around her felt stiff and when he met her eyes, her blood ran cold. She didn’t think she was very welcome here, even in his eyes. 


	2. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a more fleshed out chapter one  
> leave good vibes!

Lydia Martin was a city girl and everybody in that room knew it, the entire party falling hushed or silent, the dances stopping, the conductor catching wind and having the instruments lower their volume as everybody stared at her and her small family as they entered. They were as grandeur as one tended to be, they looked like aristocrats out of England or France perhaps, and Lydia was as intense as Marie herself, before the beheading of course. Her hair fell perfectly in curled patterns and her dress was elegantly tiered, one over another over another in decorative and constructive matters, flaunting her and yet, accentuating her with a petticoat that clung to her, adorned with gold buttons that flashed in the candlelight and skin as flushed as her pink dress, she was so beautiful it was sinful. 

And Stiles Stilinski wanted absolutely no part of her, this girl who claimed the world with her beauty and raised her head like a queen amongst men- the simple way she proceeded to enter was as if she valued herself over them and he hated her, hated her for reasons amongst others and he could swear it they had moved in on a  _ Sunday.  _ Three days prior he’d seen her in the village and she walked like a goddess, as if everybody should stop to bow at her feet- She was trouble waiting to happen, the devil with a gorgeous face. Likely to be a  _ witch _ , coming over to pertain bad luck on them. No northern folk decide they’re simply going to move down to the south and start their own little farm and their own little life without reason nor thought. It simply didn’t happen, it wasn’t done, Stiles considered that perhaps these people were spies for the north- he figured they might have been Northern Democrats or Constitutional-Union’s,  _ liberals _ . Carrying all sorts of crazy ideas on what they should be and what should be done, even if Stiles was an abolitionist and their plantation was a boarding house for the black folk, not a slave labor camp, that was an idea that was human- Northern’s had all sorts of ideas that weren’t  _ human _ . 

And pray to the good lord his mother had yet to catch wind of Miss Rich and Beautiful (And how could she miss it?) because once she did, he knew his prospects of choosing his wife were good as dead- Lydia Martin was rich and beautiful and _ rich _ , and they were rich and Stiles considered himself to be fair and  _ rich _ , of course. Without even realizing it, Stiles had even subconsciously picked sides with Lydia Martin, every girl in that room watched him watch her with spite, watch her glance around, as if lost, with wide green eyes- he chose her and agreed with his mother and turned down every girl that had claim on him since he was announced to be looking for a wife. Though Stiles refused to admit to this, because he wasn’t  _ choosing  _ at all, his fate was his own at this moment and standing up from his own table, Stiles approached Karen Rothman, a cute little blonde with puckered lips, stuck up blonde curls and a good name but no good body enough to suffice envy in the other girls nor rile any man unless desperate enough, taking her hand and bowing if only slightly.

“May I, Miss Rothman?” He offered, the girl giving a flirtatious giggle in return and nodding her head eagerly. 

“Of course,” she cooed and as if by the request, life breathed back into the room and Stiles pulled Karen closer by the waist as he grabbed her into a waltz. The girl glanced towards his mother who was watching her son with intent and smiled up at him, Stiles forced a smile back. He liked Karen but he didn’t  _ like  _ Karen, he surely would never marry her- perhaps her friend Elizabeth who had dark brown hair that was beautiful and straight and striking blue eyes or maybe Allison’s friend Martha- perhaps that sweet girl in the village if there was any merit to her, they had a prosperous shop that Stiles could adopt to his own plantation- just relocate it or perhaps expand it to another shop on the plantation. Though what was the likelihood now that he had any option open besides Lydia Martin- he can already see Sunday Afternoon luncheon with Lydia Martin sitting across from him at the table, placed their tactfully by his mother, but not far enough that he and her couldn’t carry on a conversation- though not too close together that his mother couldn’t overhear said conversation, and of course at just a good enough perspective that he could gaze to his content, let it be drilled into him she’s beautiful and will suffice him with beautiful children. 

And on the other side of the room, Lydia watched her savior dance with that other girl (not pretty enough for him if you asked her), conversing with those around her. He moved with a certain, practiced grace, and a boisterous confidence and she figured he had some air of importance otherwise people would not have been easily swayed by a boy declaring the party starting again, though she was thankful for him and what he had done for them, diverting their attention for her, even if she could still hear whispers of ‘who invited them’ and ‘who are they’. The unaccepting air in the room was heavy and she wondered if anybody would accept her at all, all the girls were  _ glaring  _ and she didn’t understand it, she hadn’t done anything to them. And she gazed back over at the handsome young man, perhaps older than her, and this time she met his eyes and his amber eyes made her blood run cold- he didn’t do this for her, not at all, his eyes were menacing and she wondered if perhaps she misinterpreted it. If maybe she had just seen it wrong but it seemed the minute their contact broke he was back to smiling and charming and twirling other girls dizzy and senseless.

He knew what he was doing she noticed and he knew how to charm somebody straight  off their coat tails. Part of her wanted to know this stranger more, but part of her felt like perhaps he didn’t want to know her. Though just as she turned, she was met by a raven haired girl who’s back was to her, bumping into her. 

“Oh my! I’m awfully sorry, please forgive me!” Lydia said, unnerved and afraid that the girl might go off on her but the young woman turned around to reveal a beautiful face and a dimpled smile. 

“All’s forgotten. And who might you be?” She asked, beaming softly, a tall blonde man standing beside her now and watching her. 

“She’s the Yankee gal from the North,” he informed in a thick, Irish sounding accent. 

“Is that so? What be your name Yankee gal?” The raven haired girl, asked giggling and Lydia offered a partial smile. “Oh Isaac! You’ve upset her, now look at what ch’ya’ve done!” 

“Done nothing at all,” Lydia cooed in her royally thick, almost British sounding accent, holding a hand out. “Trust me, all is well. I am Lydia- Lydia Martin.” She prided her name like a male peacock splaying his feathers for attention. 

“Well pleasure to meet ya, Miss Lydia. I’m Allison Argent. How does it go?” She asked, extending a gentle hand, nails glossy from being painted over though her hands had small knicks and bruises on them, though soft from lotions as Lydia took it, she noticed she wore a long, black gown with simple ivory buttons and a choker necklace made of flimsy lace. 

“Allison, what an… interesting name. I never heard of a girl named Allison before, not so often heard.”

“Well I never heard of no girl named  _ Lydia Martin _ yet we be talkin’ now don’t we?” She asked, laughing at her. “Oh calm down will ya? The world ain’t be turnin’ over yet, trust me, it only done started. They’re all just weary such a belle walk in and be claiming her stakes already- The Stilinski’s done got their eyes on ya, even if Stiles may not be fond a ya yet. He will be.”  

“Who’s Stiles?” Lydia inquired and she longed to glance over at the boy from before, and just as she did, Allison gently turned her and pointed to the handsome boy from before and Lydia practically melted as she watched him stumble over a friend and laugh cooly as they gripped the other’s arm. “And his friend is Scott McCall, the darker boy with the uneven jaw? Yes that be him, Scott. Quite lovely isn’t he?”

“Scott or Stiles?” Lydia asked, looking up at Allison and Allison laughed brightly. Her laughter making the room brighten with her joy. 

“Scott of course, why every girl be trippin’ for the likes of Stiles is beyond me, he only be a brother to me and I see no grand in him. He got money and that be all.”

“That be all?” Lydia recalled. “He’s handsome, and he seems so charming. Are you quite sure ‘that be all’?” 

“See you’ve fallen for his spell,” she teased.

“Spell?” 

“Oh I’m kidding ya,” Allison said, rolling her eyes a bit. 

“Perhaps we ought to dance before your mama walk over here,” Isaac suggested and Allison smiled brightly, nodding. “Nice meeting ya Lydia Martin.” 

“Nice meeting you too....” Lydia smiled and went to sit with her parents. 

“Who was that?” Her mother asked and Lydia shrugged.

“A girl named Allison, she say’s the Stilinski’s got their eyes on us- I think in a good way.” 

“Oh?” Her parents both seemed interested. 

“Yeah. You know of them?” 

“Of course… who doesn’t? We should talk about it at home, I’m sure you two will get well acquainted,” Natalie quickly excuses as Claudia Stilinski herself approaches them and seats herself in the empty chair next to them. 

“Well don’t we have quite the small party here, where are your other children?” She asked, looking about the table. Of course, since Stiles she’s had a daughter and two other sons,  all of which were milling about, Stiles younger sister Odette Stilinski was now twirling in his arms, a sweet girl of 16, laughing and flirting about with those around them- she had fair blonde hair and darker eyes than those of Stiles’, a dueling duo of fanciful beauty and charm.   
“Other children?” Natalie faltered, laughing awkwardly. “Why… I only have my daughter,” She cooed, petting Lydia’s hair. 

Claudia seemed perplexed at the notion and just as she was about to speak, one of her twin boys- Jack- had run over to her. “Momma! Momma! Come tell Stiles to help me get the doll’s from the bushes.”

“Dolls? Now why are the girls dolls in the bushes?” Claudia queried and the boy flushes red.

“We was only playin’ with the girls. But Stiles says he ain’t comin outside, he say he’s busy.”

“And surely he is. You boys put em there and surely you boys can get em out like you put em. Use your good heads, darling. God gave you a head for a reason.”

“And God gave me a big brother for a reason but what use is he when he don’t do nothin for me?”

“Don’t speak foul on your brother, he done you good enough- let him enjoy the night, he’s got work to do tomorrow and you knows it,” Claudia scolded her son pointedly and he huffed away back to his friends. “Excuse the boy’s manner he only be seven years old and he knows no better- his tutors are working on it.”

“How old is your oldest boy?” Natalie inquired. “Which one is he?”

“That one there yonder, with the black hair. He’d be nineteen in a month.” Claudia pointed him out with pride, a prideful smile dawning on his face. “He’s the hardest workin’ boy you ever gon meet.”

“Is that so? My dearest Lydia here is just turning eighteen and we were thinking of having her coming out party here in our new estate. Perhaps, if the prospects are right we may not need one at all.”

“There’s no need to rush it,” Lydia intercepted. “Perhaps he won’t like me, and I wouldn’t want to push in.”

“Oh nonsense, Lydia, who wouldn’t be fond of such a beauty?” Natalie cooed, smiling and Claudia’s stomach twisted at the prospects, knowing her son wasn’t very  _ fond  _ and neither was she, they were rotten northerners, probably only got a country house for vacation and would only sit on the good names of these people, cause havoc like Salem all over again. 

“My, you know I must go check on my daughter Odette, but if I may, would you enjoy our company on our estate for Luncheon after sabbath on Sunday? I’ll have Miss T’Any make a roast for you-”

“Oh- well…” Natalie started but her husband raised his hand and nodded politely. 

“We’d love to join you.” 

“Oh lovely! I bid you goodbye for now,” Claudia bowed her head before scurrying away, that might as well have been the most painful encounter of her entire life, meeting Stiles halfway at the table.

“You did not!” He scolded in a whisper. 

“Did not what?” Claudia asked, innocently confused.

“Invite them to Sunday Luncheon.”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“It gives them hopes.”

“Darling that woman had hopes before I dare step foot near them. I sat and she go and tell me that perhaps she don’t need no coming out for her daughter because if the prospects be right you would be the lawful husband of that young girl.”

“You had the same hopes.”

“There are ways that the things be done and we both know that,  _ that _ isn’t it.” 

“S’pose so.” Stiles shrugged. “That girl is too pretty to be a girl. Suppose their witches or something.”

“Witches? How intriguing, darling your imagination proceeds you.”

Stiles grinned at his mother and she tugged him down and kissed his head. “You go on now and find yourself a girl. Are you sure on Allison?”

“Mama Allison is like a sister to me and I do believe Isaac and Scott already have their dowers put up on her, she say that she might let them fight it out amongst themselves. I say it’s a decision her heart makes- though an Irish Boy like Isaac with a father like his own, suppose she’s better with Scott. Though his father be a drunkard and his mother be a texan- or is she mexican?”

“They all be the same child.”

“Perhaps. Though… say it makes no difference.”

“All the difference, he’s half catholic.”

“Fully catholic, his father is a spaniard.”

“How did he get her from Florida again?”

“Don’t ask me.” Stiles shrugged, his mother shrugging, scanning the room to see Odette flirting with a group of boys her age, one being Mister Liam Dunbar. 

“See, your sister knows her duty.”

“Let her make heirs.”

“Say we do set up a marriage for you with Lydia-”

“We can talk later, I promised Elizabeth a dance.”

“Alright then,” Claudia resigned, sighing before joining John and their company at the table again, her husband linking their hands together and she flirtatiously leaned into his side and kissed his cheek- for a woman who’d birthed four children, she was awfully thin and still as beautiful as she was when a bride, though to John it made no difference, he loved her and he only wished the same for his son- but with the war that seemed to be coming, they needed all the resources they could get and he knew, deep down that they had no choice. 

If Stiles chose, he could learn to love the girl they chose- until then, he simply had to do what must be done. 


	3. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a lot of the information in these first few chapters are setting up for key points later.   
> Leave good vibes in the comments~!

The sun hung low friday afternoon as Stiles wiped the sweat from his brow, leaning back in the office chair as he looked over the do-nothing court cases he assessed to, being one of the only lawyers in the district county, he tended to get word of every court case and every problem within the town, being that the only other lawyer was a man older than the rickety building they sat in. Shifting uncomfortably, wincing at his still hung over headache, he removed his suit jacket and tossed it on the chair beside him, drawing the shades for some relief of the cool in darkness, bettered shaded than overheated, fanning himself with his papers he sighs, then returns to glancing them over, rolling up his sleeves as he read over the claims, the reports and the evidence provided.

“Older brother,” A sweet voice chirped as a young blonde skipped in with a basket, Odette of course, with Cadan shyly trodding beside her. “I’d brought you a drink, do you need anything from the country market?” 

“Where are you going that you’re heading outside of the town?” Stiles queried, them and the argents lived on the otherside of the village, though if she was crossing, she must be going somewhere.

“I be going to see Old Lady Lesher, she be ill you know.”

“Oh?” He asks, lifting Caden into his lap as he sits to play with his small soldier toy. “What ties your tongue?” he asks his brother who looks up and smiles. The boy wasn’t much of a speaker, and Stiles knew that well, though he at least said hi to him most times. 

“I saw a rabbit in the stables this morning,” the child tells and Stiles peaks interested, oiffering that he continues. “I wanted to lure him over to pet but Jack done go and scare him off- Mister Don said Jack was just being mean. Mister Don also say Jack be a lot like you when you was a child, is that true brother?” 

“True to the heart, if I have to be honest with you.”

“Is it so that you’re marrying Miss Martin?” Odette asks, sitting on the chair where his jacket was, smoothing it out over the arm.

“Nothing is certain Odette, don’t get your skirts twisted,” Stiles reassured knowing she worried for him. The girl opened the basket and pulled out a glass jug of what looked like apple cider and set it on the table. 

“Green tea that momma made,” She said, going to grab one of the crystal glasses that lay across the room with the alcohol and returned with small steps to the desk and poured him some, Stiles bouncing Caden on his lap, the boy hugging his arm- he was hard of head, the doctors weren’t really sure what was wrong with him and called it shy of personality, though Stiles saw the brightness in him, where the boy would open to him when not even his mother could hear the words in that little head of him. Stiles was thankful Caden had Jack, it was only deserving that a boy so quiet had a brother as Jack that was so loud and abstructly forward. 

“Thank you Odette. Now take Caden and run along, I’ve work to finish. Be careful, understood? And tell Lady Lesher I hope the best for her. Don’t you cause trouble, aye?” 

“Ay, I understand,” Odette assured, leaning over to kiss his head. “Do be home in good time, ay?”

“Aye. Go now.” Stiles put Caden down and let the boy kiss his cheek before following his sister out, Odette adjusting the boys hat so he was not harmed too harshly by the sun. Stiles smiled soft and watched them go, though it had faded once they left and he returned to his work.

 

Natalie Martin lay in the carriage, watching the scene of tobacco fields go by, one crop after the next, the entire expanse of land for miles, she recognized, had belonged to the Stilinski’s. She recalled seeing them at a party once, Claudia and her husband, in Massachusetts, what for, she did not recall but she did recall their presence and the essence of power they carried, this was just what they needed, the incentive that needed to be made. In which cases, Natalie knew that nothing could be carried out until she assured her daughter’s possession in the town, though unbeknownst to her was Stiles position of  _ power  _ in the town that might propose a challenge to the matters at hand- of course this is all forewarning that Natalie didn’t know about and yet, she didn’t seem to care. Now, the momentary matter at hand, was getting Lydia to marry Stiles. The Stilinski’s needed to find their son a wife and she needed to create a good prospect for her husband, something they could easily profit from. 

And as the carriage drew down the road, Natalie saw the grand Virginian manner present itself in the horizon. The house stood grander than any other in the town- that besides the northern boarder houses that were rented in the summers by rich folk from the north. The closer they drew on, the more breath Natalie sucked in, trying to remain her composure and nerves, though she was not one to take any judgement to heart she had a feeling that Claudia Stilinski was not the kind of person to be stood over. 

Turning, the carriage roundings into a long, winding multicolor brick paved driveway, of reds and whites and oranges and golds and beiges, pulling along a long, tall house made of white stone with tall marble pillars that hang over the house with a jut out, triangular hangover, with what perceived to be a blue jewel (though too big to be a jewel) round and encased by a wood frame stuck in the center of the triangle. This resembled the four dormer windows that stuck out of the room, one each on the two jut out sides and two on the slanted roofs behind the hangover, sparkling blue glass illuminated by day. The white washed house itself seemed to gleam, with long, tall glass windows and a cobbled base with barred windows for the cellar that sunk beneath the ground, the steps had the same pattern and the pattern fit the base of the pillars, leading up to two large, fine wooden doors with golden handles, though the door seemed small in comparison to the house, Natalie realized it was grander than expected once she stepped up to the door, gazing up at it, before she could knock, a black man answers the door. 

“Good afternoon Madame, how may I help you?”

“I’m looking for Lady Stilinski, is she here?”

The man looked off into the house and thought for a moment, thought if her ladyship was willing to take someone, then further thought if she would want to see this strange woman, whom he had never seen before nor was informed was coming. Then he recalled that she had somebody else over, Victoria Argent. “Can I take your name, Madame? I am unsure of her wearabouts and don’t know if she is well to take visitors.”

“Of course, my name is Lady Natalie Martin.”

“Madame Natalie Martin-”

“Lady-”

“Of course,” The man scoffed before giving the door to one of the white hall boys and giving the young boy a look of warning. 

“Do I invite her in?” He whispers and the man shrugs. 

“Leave her here, make sure she don’t make any fuss,” he whispers before going to the south hall drawing room where Lady Claudia and Lady Victoria were sat to tea, knocking on the door before entering, he bows only slightly before standing before them.

“Boyd! What is it?” Claudia calls, looking at him surprised. “Is everything alright?” 

“The Madame Natalie Martin, the New Yorker woman, be here to see you M’lady.” 

Both women looked shocked and Claudia gaped for a moment. “Here to see me? What for?”

“She din’t say no reason Ma’am, just told me she be lookin’ for Lady Stilinski, din’t give no manner nor nothin’ just say she’s lookin’ for ya.”

“And what did you tell her?”

“I said I be checkin’ if you well enough to take people. Din’t say nothing about no visitors ma’am.”

“My… Perhaps better she sit to tea with us, don’t you think Victoria? Maybe then she ought to leave us alone or whatever she had to say is unimportant and she falter.”

“Allison says her girl is perfectly fine, bless the girl’s heart. Her mother so bad?”

“Bad as the devil, she proposed to call off her daughter’s comin’ out to marry her to my Stiles and you know how he be. Boyd, what do you say?”  
“I say these people are nothin’ but trouble M’lady. Though she be waitin’ outside, should I invite her in?”

“I…” Claudia hesitates. “Well perhaps you should. What harm can it do? As long as she gets no ideas, you heard they move in on a church day?”

“Really? My who told you!” Victoria asks, shocked at the prospect that one might move on a Sunday, missing church was only such a great sin. 

“Stiles, said he saw them and said other people heard about it. Don’t know a damn well thing where they live nor why they came.” Claudia shook her head and waved Boyd off. “Tell her to come and advise somebody to bring more iced tea.”

“Mint M’lady?”

“Yes darling. Now off you go, don’t leave her to die in the Devil’s heat, it is colder in New York after all.”

“Perhaps that’s why they be so cold blooded,” Boyd mused and the women laughed before he went off to get them. 

“Why, for a black man he’s surely a charm,” Victoria tells her. “Isn’t much handsome but sure a charm, a really joker.”

“Real hard working too, Stiles and him be well acquainted, or at least Stiles had hoped to be but Boyd only ever wave him off, poor boy just wants to do his job.”

“Stiles have plenty of friends, what’s he buggin the man for?”

“Beats me, he set his mind to something and he gon’ do it, lest he beat the horse dead. Though Boyd, bless his good heart, tolerates my boy and never lost no patience with him.”

“How darling of him. Not many men are patient,” Victoria says, sipping her iced tea carefully and Claudia nods solemnly. 

 

Boyd approaches the door again where the hall boy was waiting with the woman, door parched open only slightly. He trapezes down the stairs quickly and dab the sweat from his brow before straightening up and opening the door once more. 

“Madam, her Ladyship have company but she say you’re welcome to join them. It only be Lady Victoria.”

“I should take none of this Madame calling, I am a Lady as good as any-!”

“A Lady as good as none, I’m a free man and a paid man, either you enter this house with respect or you leave promptly and I should tell my Lady that you had spat on her good name and her servants-”

“No! No… I apologize, just… who is Victoria?”

“Lady Victoria be the Lady of House Argent, her daughter is Allison. Now shall you come in or do you prefer to scorch in the devil's heat?”

“If you may let me in, I would be thankful.” 

_ Thankful for nothing _ , Boyd thought before stepping aside to let her in and brings her to the south hall where the two women are conversing with each other. Though they stop and look up when Boyd walks in and both stand to greet Natalie Martin.

“Oh! So good to see you again,” Claudia exaggerates, leaning in to kiss both cheeks quickly out of politeness. “Do sit down, Boyd did you send for the tea?”

“I was just getting to it M’lady. Anything else?” 

“That’d be all.”

“Alright M’lady.” He smiles slightly before going off and the three women sit. Claudia and Victoria remain on the same couch while Natalie sits on a cushioned chair across from the two, looking around at the household. Both women wore simple, light dress that puffed out over the couhes, Victoria wearing a tipped, stylish hat to shade her, she smiled awkwardly and as did Claudia who took her cup and sipped. 

“So Natalie, what brings you? In dire need of company?”

Natalie nodded, not bothering to smile at all. “I had only wished to talk, though your servant insisted that I come in.”

“Did he now?” Claudia thought perhaps she should have a chat with Boyd. “Was there anything specific?” 

“Oh I had just been wondering if perhaps after Sunday Church you could have luncheon at our house- we haven’t had any guests yet and I wanted to break in the new China.”

“Oh? You’re having Luncheon together?” Victoria asked, pretending to be surprised. “Well, I should hope I’m receiving an invitation!”

“Oh… Oh! My of course, where are my manners?” Natalie asked before forcing a bit of laughter. “Of course, please join us- you and your family. You’re all welcome of course.” 

“How splendid, what a nice little party it should be!” Claudia ensured, hand on Victoria's upper arm, smiling brightly and the two laughed together. Surely, whatever plan this woman had wouldn’t be ones to be carried out- not if they had a say in it. 

“Oh… Oh yes of course. A nice little party. Have you sons victoria?”

“Only daughters, really. Allison, Mary, Elizabeth and Carol. I only saw you with a daughter at the party last night, where were your other children?”

“I… I don’t have any,” Natalie says, biting her lip. It seemed all these women valued big families and held big homes and crowded together in parties. No woman was without her closest companion it seemed and if Natalie hated anything, it was being the one left out. While around her time of marriage in New York, less children became a popular idea and she, as many others, valued the idea of only one or two children and tending a religious house. So that’s what she’d done. She, much like her other richer friends, had one child, tended to the house, and waited on her husband's arrival home from manding the factories he did like a good woman should. These women were very different. 

“Oh… How interesting,” Victoria recalls, perplexed. “Well… It’s no matter, hm? Did y’all hear about the tailgating party next Saturday?”

“Oh yes! By the Rothmans, down by the lake, if I’m not mistaken.”

“Oh of course! It’ll be a ball.”

The Martin’s, of course, had not been invited. 


	4. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a bit of a shorter chapter. A lot more drama will be coming soon, I'm just kinda giving it a steady rise  
> Hope you enjoy, leave good vibes or critiques in the comments!  
> If you want to contact me or talk elsewhere my tumblr is allineedcd

Sunday morning was a bit gloomy, the wind was a bit brisker, though the church was still filled with every person known for miles, and as the Martins settled in their overdone attire, Stiles Stilinski walked in beside Allison Argent and the two sat down in front of Lydia, center of the pew without even seeing her. They were leaned into each other, whispering and giggling in a manner that shut everybody else out and Lydia’s eyes honed in on the slope of Stiles nose, the way his lips curled into a smile, the way he scoffed ever so slightly in place of a laugh- he was soft and gentle and yet there was such an edge to him, and as if he could have been any more handsome than he had been the night they met, Lydia had come to recognize that Stiles in a beige blazer was her new favorite thing because it made his eyes gleam (even if she couldn’t see them properly), and she had fell entirely lost in him, to the point where she barely registered Allison acknowledging her, her lip caught between her teeth. 

Although she slowly snapped out of it as she realized both of them were watching her, Natalie glancing at her daughter with a certain interest before turning back to her husband. “Uhm… hi,” Lydia greeted as she looked up at the two, eyes meeting Stiles whose eyes only sparkled with amusement.

“You alright?” he asked, brow raising cockily. 

“I zoned out.”

“Staring at me, which is perfectly understandable, I’m only handsome.”

“You  _ wish.”  _

“I don’t actually, I’m surprised your lot actually go to church, actually.” 

“Why are you surprised?” 

Allison giggled at the two’s fighting, she didn’t see why he was so opposed to marrying this girl when she was perfect for him, they were a good balance- there would be no south if there was no north, if they thought of it so kindly and she watched with sheer amusement. “Because everybody knows it, y’all don’t have churches for miles,” Stiles says. 

“We have tons in New York City!” 

“For the catholic.” 

“Bless them, looking out for the Irish. The catholic services are held in the funeral home with Mister Lahey, though bless his heart, that sinister man could never hold a service.”

“It’s true. Though he does know how to make a good bonfire,” Stiles teased lightly, gazing at Allison who shook her head. 

“I suppose I don’t really know anyone yet,” Lydia piped up shyly and the two gay teens looked up at her, the joy fading from their eyes to something… less and Lydia noticed of course though she couldn’t help but feel so intensely warped in as she met Stiles eyes, as if she was meant to meet them, she longed to lean in and kiss him as if she was meant to kiss him and Allison noticed Lydia’s gaze flicker: _ ridiculous. _ They were a novelistic drama waiting to happen. Stiles didn’t seem to notice though, seemingly disinterested in her and everything else, though just as Allison was about to reply, the service started. They all stood to attention, Stiles could see his brothers giggling to themselves and his mother trying to shush them- this was the life he knew, not the devils rise burning in the pew behind him, which was normally full, was now empty as if the Martin family had the plague. 

Though once the service was over, everybody filed out and Stiles was in a group of his friends, gals and guys alike, and he seemed so popular. He seemed so  _ cool, _ so put together, so wonderful- it caused something lonely to twist inside Lydia, as if she had had all that and now she had nothing, she was nothing- they saw her as a monster, a northerner, not a person and frankly, all these slave owners, all these horrible dirty people who mistreated their wives acted as if she was the one in the wrong. Yet, in their eyes she was, even to Stiles, who was so beautiful and cool, saw her as something else, she wished she could see him as something else- not beautiful nor cool nor anything, just a dirty southerner. But that’s not how she saw him and she wondered if it’s how she ever would see him, but he was so lovely he outshone the sun- how could she ever see him as one of them? 

  
  


Stiles looked over as his mother called and bid his friends goodbye, going on over to their carriage and climbing in, his stomach twisted at the prospects of where they were going. God, what if they got murdered by them? Oh good god and heaven, they were so strange and mysterious. Where did they even come from? The scent of trouble lays thick in their air, they have plans, they’re too forthcoming, they have too many ideas that aren’t right and they’re intruding. It’s one thing to vacation, it’s a whole other thing to move and frankly- Stiles was not okay with this, with these people barging in and their daughter gazing at him like she’s had a dream or two about what she could do to him if there wasn’t a distance between them (or a piece of clothing for that matter), which only lead to the idea of that girl  _ without  _ clothing, the feminine body that lays beneath her dress skirt, plump breasts no longer pushed against the hem of her corset but rather-

“Stiles?”

“What?” he asked startled, just as the image had come, it had gone. He did not need the idea of Lydia Martin naked in his head- perhaps she really was a witch, imposing her wicked spirits on him. 

“Don’t  _ what _ me, I’m your mother!” Claudia scolded and Stiles smiled sheepishly. “I said you were going to behave and no fowl talk okay? Be kind, pray peace on you child.”

“Yes mother.” He nodded, cheeks heating up a bit, Odette watching him with an intense fascination. “What is it?” he asked his sister.

“You were thinking about something.”

“I don’t think I understand,” He glanced down, hoping his thoughts didn’t give his body any smart ideas and thankfully, it hadn’t. 

“You know what.” Claudia and John looked over and Stiles looked away, fidgeting with the watch on his wrist, his parents shrugging and ignoring them as they continued to speak. In truth, stiles had forgotten about her, Lydia Martin, until today, though now that he was faced with her (probably had to spend his day with her)  he found that his heart twisted in a bitter way, he almost wanted to puke. He didn’t want to spend a day with her and her twisted up family, he should have claimed work when he could but he knew better, his parents would have had this happen one way or another. But there remains a desperate longing to flee inside of him, jump out of the carriage just so he didn’t have to see such helpless eyes again, such sparkling clothing again, such a ridiculous girl again. 

Stiles realized that the closer they drew on, the closer they were to the Northern Boarders households- of course this is where they had been staying, not only that they accounted as Squatters being that they were renting the land. They didn’t own the house, not that he was aware of. He would have seen the papers to the house if they had bought one due to it being a vacation home and of course they couldn’t _ buy _ somebody's vacation home. Of course, then he had to wonder if they’d been here before and had they- why didn’t he remember them, or their daughter for that matter? Who did they know that gave them their home?

Stiles honed in on his watch and bit his lip- a panic sweat capturing him and he wondered why. It was stupid, they weren’t truly witches or whatever- though what proof did they have? God he was going crazy, he was losing his mind over these people who meant nothing to him but the more he thought of them the more he felt like a certain danger and end was creeping up on them and he wondered if perhaps it was just the tension between the two halves of the country- were they spies? Were they witches? Were they frauds looking to steal them of their land? 

Jack prodded him with his foot, just being annoying as he poked and prodded at Stiles, giggling to himself when Stiles glanced over irritated. “Now what on earth are you doing?” Stiles teased, tickling his side and the boy flung himself into John’s lap and the older man laughed, hugging his son there. The boy giggled and squirmed, trying to escape but he was stuck.

“You’re trapped!” John teased, tickling him and Jack squeals out. Stiles watches with fondness, he remembered being a boy so young and so coy and excitable, part of him longs for that innocence again, that sort of freedom where he wasn’t bound to a county through his service in law and his ties to a household through inheritance, Stiles longed to be as free as his brothers but knew that he would never regain such childish livelihood again though he knew his place, these people needed him. So he let the idea go, and just like a bird, it flew and he succumbed to the ideals of his life, the way that things should be, that he was a protector of these good people and that this was his life- a rich plantation boy with a holy name to him who is to be marred to a probable unholy girl. 

 

Lydia had reached their house first- a small two story brick house with white wooden steps up. It had a gravel path, nothing nearly as grand as what her mother saw at the Stilinski’s and she grew self conscious of their home, their small and probably temporary home- god Natalie hoped this worked out, and god she hoped those people didn’t walk in and trash them entirely or degrade them. It was a temporary home, their home in the city was much grander anyhow; Natalie sucked in a breath and collected her pride: she was above the opinions of a southerner. 

With that, they stopped before the house, and Lydia was the first to exit, greeting her grandmother at the door. “Grandmama!” She called, running up to meet her in a hug. “You’re here!” She called, not knowing her grandmother was coming to visit.

“It’s not a bad day to stop by, is it?” She cooed and Lydia shook her head. 

“We’re even have guests over. How long will you be staying?” Her grandmother was from New Jersey but with the train, it was a few hours less time than a carriage or otherwise could carry through. The family entered the house, Natalie greeting her mother in law and Mr. Martin kisses his mothers head hello, the woman smiles and ushers them inside. 

“I thought I would stay a few months to help you settle in and help plan Lydia’s coming out. It’ll surely be something of excitement, we can invite all of her friends!” She cheers and Natalie laughs uncomfortably. 

“Oh yes of course… It’ll be a good time, I’m sure,” She cooes in return, smiling awkwardly as they rush inside and the few servants that they had- all white girls that had come down with them, Irish Servent girls and boys were rushing to set the table outside and put the Lunch down. Soon a ring came at the door and Mr. Martin was the one greeting them, unlike the elaborate houses, there were no servants here to answer the door, not yet anyways. They hadn’t exactly sorted out the situation or even figured out how to. 

“Well good afternoon! I’m awfully sorry for the lack of servantry, see we haven’t been able to… find good housekeepers yet-”

“Dont’ think much of it Mister Francis,” John concludes, holding his hand up, the argents carriage pulling up just as the Stilinski’s entered. Stiles smiled and shook the man’s hand before a dainty irish girl lead them into a quaint living room of sorts. 

“It looks like a boarding house, mama,” Odette whispers to Claudia who shrugs.

“The northerners have poor taste in housing. Besides, they wouldn’t get any better, who lived here over the summer? Was it Lady Jewel? From Massachusetts or was it Mister Harris.”

“I believe it be Mister Harris,” Stiles said as Lydia entered from a door across the room, the light shining down on her to soften her beauty, to make the jewels on her dress gleam more gently and her eyes sparkled and she smiled as she saw him and he offered an awkward smile back, Odette looked to him then the girl and so did his mother- she _ liked  _ him and to think that he hated her so much, this girl only took a fancy to him it seemed and as the Argents entered behind them, Allison rushed forward to greet the strawberry blonde in a pale purple dress with her long curls hanging on the side of her left shoulder.

“Did I tell you that you look stunning this fine afternoon? Look at you! Gorgeous, utterly gorgeous!” 

“Really? You believe so?” Lydia asked, with hopeful gleaming green eyes as she watched Allison with a true fondness, an endearment of friendship and Allison nodded.

“Oh yes, I do.” She leaned in a big closer, glancing at Stiles before whispering, “And I think Stiles does too, you’ve caught his eye, I think,” she whispers and giggles at Lydia’s wonderstruck look, the way she inhales just slightly.

“I… Oh it’s not like his approval matters to me,” she quickly defended. “Besides, I always look quite swell, why wouldn’t his head turn?”

“Because he’s stiles, oh so very stubborn and not very fond of anybody really, Stiles.” 

“Well I don’t care much if he looks,” Lydia lies and Allison giggles, the boy already sitting and warped in conversation with her father. “Besides, don’t you two have a thing?”

“Us? I thought I already told ya, he be like my brother.”

“Oh… right,” Lydia mumbled, blushing in embarrassment as her grandmother and mother entered, her Gram greeting everybody joyfully. 

“Hello! Hello! Oh what a nice little party we’ve acquired, well I suppose you’ll have to forgive us, we don’t know much about southern hospitality, but perhaps a delightful lunch of Colorful Salads and an array of chicken, cheeses and bread should satisfy?” 

“It works just fine,” Victoria agrees, laughing delightfully. She liked this woman’s mother better than the lady of the house herself. Claudia nods in agreement and Stiles smiles, as do the men. The boys are set out about with Mary, on a corner in the room, plotting little games in hushed voices. Elizabeth was with Odette, the girls chatting and giggling, Lydia and Allison watched from where they stood and Lydia found her eyes trailing to Stiles, the boy relaxed against the arm of the couch, listening to Mister Argent talk to them about something political. 

And stiles was nothing less than an active participant in conversation, it was as if he never ran out of things to say, about anything there was to say about anything like if you asked him about the weather, he would just talk continuously about how beautiful the clouds were or how blue the sky was or how bright the sun shone, his words outnumbered his thoughts and he spoke with such a brilliance Lydia was amazed he wasn’t a politician or something smart like that, hanging with the likes of Jefferson or Jackson in Monticello or Hermitage.  

Perhaps she was anti Whig herself but he was just so smart and something about him was magnetic, like he attracted everybody around him to hear what he had to say, and as Natalie stood with her mother, she noticed this too and her heart beat in fear, that this boy who was so smart was dangerous. She didn’t think that he was as smart as he was, or perhaps he wasn’t and just knowed how to present it well, the  _ idea _ of smart. 

“Mister Stilinski you are quite knowledgeable,” Mr. Martin informs in gay hesitance. 

“Well I suppose you have to be when you’re all but town mayor,” Stiles told him.

“I don’t think I understand.”

“I’m to inherit the largest sum of money to be inherited in Virginia, I’m the county’s only lawyer, a graduate of law from Harvard- perhaps you recall my parents attended a large graduation gala in my behalf a few years back, see I had to run out for something in the Carolina’s, see a friend of mine had been hurt.”

“I do recall the gala, yes.” The man nodded. “You graduated Harvard?” 

“I don’t spose you missed me say it, good man, did you? Bless his heart, he must be hard of hearing, worst than you Papa,” Stiles teases his father and the man laughs, Claudia shooting them a look, as even Argent chuckles at the boy’s return. Stiles smiles charmingly and nods, glancing up at Lydia and Catching her eye, winking quickly enough it could be mistaken for a blink and leaning back, not seeing the girls cheeks turn a blazing shade of red. Of course, he was accostumed to girls flirting and gushing and trying to talk but Lydia shyly stood aside and gazed, watched him with intensity and he just… stood by and took it- He saw no harm in teasing the devil’s daughter, God was with him at heart and he accepted it full heartedly.

Mister Martin doesn’t seem very pleased with this comment and stands. “Perhaps we should all sit to lunch now, don’t you think?” 

So they rose and went to lunch. 


	5. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post-Brunch scene and a lot more Stydia interaction!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave good vibes!   
> Tumblr: allineedcd

The day went by fast and the young women, alongside Stiles, found themselves sat on the deck, talking. Stiles was sipping on iced coffee as the cool haze of the evening slowly mourned over them, cooler than the day but still hot as hell- his jacket rest on the side of the chair and his sleeves were rolled up to reveal strong, muscle bound arms covered with hair and bulging against the cuffed shirt. Lydia swore her mouth watered. 

“... Of course, I’d have to see out to South Carolina by Theo but why do that when I could not do that. Ya know what I mean?” He told Allison who laughed. “I mean, bless his heart, but that boy be the offspring of the devils decent. Or… More like the associate, he makes all the bargains.”

“I thought you were friends?”

“Well yeah, but have ya met ‘im? He’s devious. He knows his way about, surely and I wouldn’t test his hand at anythings. Besides, it’s hotter than the pits of hell down there, I think I’m good here.”

“Perhaps go to the Bayou for trade, find good business there.”

“Aye, perhaps.” Stiles stops to think. “Perhaps I just get a few more partners and the plantation remains a good reserve. Besides, not many folk be takin’ to the big plantation scene anymore. They’re all becomin’ small farmers.”

“Aye, they are. So you have good prospects.”

“What does your family plant?” Lydia asks Allison who seems interested. 

“Oh we have investments here and there, we be a good business and manufacturing family. We sell weapons and we invested in the railroads.”

“Oh… I see,” Lydia says nodding. “Say, you got a lotta factories around here?”

“No Ma’am, why would we? Ain’t nobody need a bunch of bells and whistles blowing steam in our good air,” Stiles intersects and Lydia leans back into her chair. 

“I was just asking, that’s all.”

“Asking  _ why _ ?” 

“Well my daddy he’s a factory owner, and he came down here to buy the factories so I just wanted to know if-”

“There ain’t no factories to buy. You ought’a tell him and don’t get no ideas about it either.”

“Stiles pray yourself calm and be kind,” Odette cooes to him and he takes in a breath, nodding. 

“Sorry,” he says bitterly and Lydia nods, sipping her own iced coffee. “Uhm..”

Stiles shook his glass in slow circles, glancing up at her if only slightly, raising a brow.

“I… I don’t think he’s planning on harming any of you. I’m not a bad person, if that’s what you’re so worried about,” She speaks up and now they’re all watching her and Allison and Odette are eyeing Stiles down because they  _ Know  _ Lydia Martin may not have looked up from her glance but she was talking to him and Stiles’ gaze narrows at her. 

“Don’t put words in my mouth, I never said anything about you being a  _ bad  _ person, you northerners are just no lawful people and I know a good person when I see one, but you’re nor good nor bad, you’re just innocent. Your parents are different story.”

“What’s wrong with my parents?”

“You’ll see one day.”

“I’m not an innocent! They’re just looking to expand business and I’d assume you’d understand.”

“I would but I’m not going up north to Farmer John in New Jersey saying ‘hey sir, can I take this fine piece o’ land?’ Y’all got no boundaries, learn them before ya get into a lot of trouble.”

That seemed to shut Lydia up, though she looked up with fire blazing green eyes and Stiles wondered if perhaps he’d be dead- inside he prayed that she didn’t bewitch him or send the devil after him. Stiles look met hers and his gaze was hard and she felt something bitter twist in her- beautiful he might seem but he was black inside. He didn’t deserve her affections for him.

“So be it but if you ask me, this is Northern boundary.”

“This is a rental vacation home,” Stiles rebounds and Allison bites back laughter, not wanting to get involved or pick sides. Lydia seems aghast. 

 

Inside things weren’t much better, the men had nothing to say and were trapped in endless silence, and the women were… well they were dangerously polite. Natalie noticed that Victoria and Claudia were a team, they were best friends and one just simply wouldn’t do without the other. Though if anything, they were being nice- in their own quirky way, she assumed. Southerners were not exactly known to be hospitable people, they were slave owners. 

“Stiles has been thinking of taking a trip down to the Carolina’s soon, said he might visit the Raeken’s,” Claudia informs and Victoria seems interested. 

“For what?” Natalie asks.

“He wants to expand our tobacco markets. Of course, he’s be a forward thinking boy and he also talked about perhaps setting market in New Orleans. Which is sensible.”

“If you really wanted, you could invest in the slave market. We be selling some of our slaves for thousands to those lower south- they’re makin’ cotton more than god’s makin’ fruit in this world.”

“You don’t say? Well you know we only have a few slaves and they be the ones that were left after John’s parents passed. They’re good where they are, rather not find out T’any be hangin in the trees of Kentucky because ol’ Jackson thought her cookin was no good,” Claudia scoffed. 

“Whose Old Jackson?” Natalie asks and they laughed at her. 

“President Andrew Jackson? Why Surely you get a joke when ya here one, or are y’all so thick in the head you’ve never done got it?” Claudia asks, raising a brow as she leans back, bubbling with subtle, sweet laughter. Her hat was tilted over her eyes and long brown hair cascaded in a braid and she looked regal, sat there in her sunday dress- a light pink with white collar and ruffles on the end of sleeves. 

“Ah don’t patronize them, they still haven’t got the jist of it, Claud’s,” John assures, the two linking hands over the separate couches and the woman laughs. “They’ll get it.”

“Lest the run back north,” Victoria teases. “Y’all know how to brandish pistons right or you never done seen one?”

“Oh don’t jest,” Claudia teases. “They’re factory owners, course they’ve seen pistons before. Though they might not be good, they still seen em.”

“What are you trying to say?” Natalie snaps.

“Y’all just don’t have the charm us Southerners do, everything is quick business for y’all, we like to take our time. Quality business.”

“Quantity of Quality is how you race,” Francis Martin interjects. “And the more you make, the more you sell, the more money you earn. Rather earn nothin’ then earn more?”

“Earn all with good time, Tobacco is a billin’ business and surely, ya can’t rush a crop to grow. Smoke do you Francis? That’s our weed you’re smokin.” 

That shut him up enough, and Claudia beamed with pride of her own loud mouth, of course, she would not stand for anybody trashing their good name and either Claudia got the last word or there was no word left to say at all. 

 

Stiles noticed the white girls running in and out and realized one of them was Isaac’s sister, milling about the outdoors, picking flowers for the inside. 

“Isn’t that Mary? Mary Lahey?” He asks and Allison looks over and smiles.

“Why it is Mary! I didn’t know she be a workin’ girl. Mary! Oh Mary! Hi!” Allison calls, getting up and running over to her, and the girl looks up from snipping flowers and smiles. The two are talking in the distance and now Stiles is essentially left alone with Lydia. Suddenly he felt guilty for patronizing her, she didn’t mean any harm and really she was just being nice.

“I uh… I din’t mean to tarnish your name or anything- But I do hope you know you’re parents didn’t come here thinking they would’a found factories galore. Ya know?”

“I don’t know. They don’t exactly tell me things- I was told we were here on business and that’s all. You have no right-”

“Don’t get’ch’ya skirts twisted. Until you can prove me wrong, I wouldn’t get your hopes too high.”

“Here I was thinking you were a nice person.”

“What gave you that idea?”

Lydia stammers over her words for a moment, wondering how to tell him or maybe even incite the party that had happened just a few days ago. “I… You… the party. When you did that at the party, I thought you were just being nice.” 

Stiles raises a brow and for a moment he understands where she would be coming from and he wonders- as if trying to remember- if she was being nice. “I’ve never liked the quiet and frankly I would have rather danced than stare at Marie Antoinette the second as she entered the room, thinking so highly of herself.”

“I don’t think very-”

“You walk with your head held up so high you would believe it’d fallen off. You do think highly of yourself, but perhaps that’s just how they breed your kind. Maybe trying looking around for once instead of sticking your nose in the air. Seeing is in fact better than smelling most of the time,” Stiles counters and she fidgets with her cup, watching him sip from the black, plastic straw so simply, as if he was not angered or bitter at all. “Don’t go and cry about it- people just don’t like snobs.”

“And what are you? All those people are sitting there with poor farms, doing intensive labor and what do you do? You’re not a snob?”

“I sort out their cases, I take care of the town, I’m a lawyer, I’m a big exporter for the nation, I do what I have to do. I can’t make the yeoman's any more  rich nor can I make them anymore poor. I give my church money, I work my job and that’s what I do. We’re not even a slave owning family- well not really. Though we treat our men and women good, and we pay them small wages, not that they need much because we provide them with everything and even a church to collect in on sundays. You know who built the black church round here? My father. We’ve done our part, I do my part, there’s a way that things work and a dreamer can only dream and a man can only live. Please, tell me, do you work in daddy’s factories or are you just his gentle daughter seated on her high horse, manding the station and waiting on her marriage? Your only partaker being the dower her husband gives.” 

“I… I’ve never had to work no. But I’m not a snob.”

“You act like one.”

“And You?” 

“Only dislike you.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re trouble.”

“I’ve done nothing-”

“Yet.” 

“What’s going on here?” Allison asks as she reenters the scene and both look over at her and Lydia adjusts in her chair, of course, she was used to men degrading her- Jackson Whittemore had done it to her all the time and a few times had gone so far to hit her. Though Lydia had never let her parents in on her secret, about the lover she had spread her legs for on numerous occasions in hopes he’d take her as a wife but had only left her to weep in the dust- so whenever his hit bruised, she had simply found ways to hide it or friends who would help cover it. 

“Nothing,” Lydia says. “He was just… giving me advice.”

“Advice?”

“Nothing to worry your head over, Ally,” Stiles soothes and tugs her to sit down in her chair. “Don’t be standing so much, y’all’ll over heat.” 

“Thank you dear brother.” Allison laughs and kisses his cheek and Stiles smiles slightly. Odette and Elizabeth wander over and Odette seats herself in her brothers lap. 

“We’ll be inside if y’all need anything.”

“Alright, make sure mama is alright, you know she gets antsy after awhile.”

“Mama does like to move about. I think we’ll be leaving soon.”

“Alright babe, go inside and get yourself something cold- check on y’er brothers.”

“Yes brother,” Odette replies obediently before standing and going off to do as she was told to do, Stiles watching his baby sister go inside and Allison watched lazily. 

“Why do we have to stand in the heat while our parents sit inside?”

“Ain’t no better, Ally.” 

“I s’pose.” 

“Pray calm, it’ll get cooler with due time.”

“It’s always very muggy.”

“Better than Georgia.”

“Yeah, better than Georgia.” 


	6. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a lot is happening, especially towards the end.   
> tumblr: allineedcd   
> leave good vibes in the comments!

It’s Wednesday and Lydia was strolling through the town when she was met with Stiles as she entered the cafe, he was sat at a table, papers sprawled before him and a large cup of hot coffee. Lydia saw no reason why she couldn’t say hi, so she approaches him and she notices that many of the papers were covered in writing and typed work, they looked like legal documents and newspapers and warrants. 

“Stiles… Hi,” Lydia greets and Stiles looks up, smiling forcefully.

“Uhm… Hello. How do you do, Miss?” He greets, as if he had never seen her before and she frowns- she wonders if she had perhaps dreamt Sunday up.

“I’m alright. Are you… busy?”

“Quite,” Stiles rounds off, tapping the end of his pencil on the thick stack of the Newspaper he held. “Is there something you wanted?”

“No I just… I thought perhaps I’d say hello,” Lydia said, feeling helpless as if floundering in water. “What are you… what is all this?” She glanced down at the rolled up sleeves and his gold cuff links that seemed to glitter in the sun that streamed over him. 

“Work, paperwork, lawsuits and warrants I have to look over, some other things. Also I do like to keep watch of the slave sellers that come into town- I’ll buy one or two each time and then free them.”

“You free the slaves before making them work for you?”

“Working at the manner is an option. Though Boyd was a child in an orphanage, my mother had taken him in- claimed she wasn’t enslaving him nor adopting him, so he’s just as free as any. She took him in when we were six years old.”

“Oh. So he’s about your age?”

“S’pose so.” 

Stiles nods and Lydia nods as well, playing with her fingers. “I should go,” she says and he nods, lips pressed together as he watches her turn to leave. He says nothing but leaves her to it, she knows she isn’t wanted there at his side and so she leaves. Going to the counter, a book in her bag, and a sketch book too, she orders herself a cold glass of lemonade then sits just a means away, a table positioned across from Stiles and sits in the chair facing him. He notices her pull out the book and he smiles, if only slightly, to himself. So she isn’t a total ditz of a girl, she _ reads _ . 

Though her status prevails and her parents still remain to the devil so Stiles doesn’t think too far into this, he simply lets it be. Lets the feeling float, let’s himself get immersed in his work, let’s the day pass by, gets home by 6.30 and finds his mother waiting at the table.

She seems distraught, T’any serving her a plate of wild rice and cornbread with a side of pulled chicken. Stiles sits beside his mother and T’any looks to him. 

“Y’all hungry? Look at you sweatin’ like a bitch in heat, go get ya’self new clothes boy,” The elder black woman scolds and Claudia smiles slightly.

“She’s right my love, go change.” 

Stiles pushes his mother’s hair back from her face. “Mama what’s wrong?” 

“Oh nothing, nothing at all,” she whispers and shrugs, smiling. T’any watches the boy with a pointed look and he knows he isn’t supposed to prod. “Go, go get changed. I invited Isaac Lahey to join us for tea tonight. Be ready.”

“Yes’m.” 

Claudia smiles slightly, for the sake of her son but reclines in her chair, biting back the tears that should will to reap her once more. T’any sighs and sets a cup of tea down in front of her as she sits down beside her. 

“Lady, it’s all gon’ be fine. You don’t gots’ta worry about nothin’, it only be one child. Ain’t no big deal, we can take that baby and we bury him right out back under a lemon tree. You want that? Under a nice lemon tree, Lady?” 

“T’any, we didn’t know.”

“That’s alright. I done birthed four children and three of them come out dead. It gon’ hurt for awhile, but at least the baby came early- probably just conceived it and the body was surprised, that’s all. Come on, eat ya dinner and we’ll get ya straight to bed, then tomorra we can bury the baby under the lemon tree.” 

“Where ya gonna get a lemon tree?” 

“We done get one from the market, I’ll send Vernon out to get ya one. He can get one now if ya so worried about it.”

Claudia nods feebly and wipes her eyes. T’any pushes the fork towards her and she sighs, picking it up and taking a forkful of the wild rice before eating- the food makes it through but her body considers rejecting it, she feels horrible, she feels spiteful, she’s hurt, she’s in pain, she doesn’t even genuinely remember how she got from the hall by the entrance to the kitchen and she doesn’t understand how T’any could have managed to lose three of four children. She looks towards the 14 year old girl that is T’any’s, a girl named Charlotte who worked the kitchen with her mama. 

“Don’t get yourself so depressed, Lady Claudia,” T’any continues to encourage but Claudia can’t help it, she doesn’t understand- how could this have happened, what has she done wrong? Her spite turns towards Natalie and she feels as if Stiles was right after all, they are the devil. “You can go and done get yourself another baby, Lady Claudia, don’t look so empty. C’mon you don’t gotta eat,” T’any pleads. “Let’s get’ya to bed before Mister John come home from the field. C’mon,” T’any pulls her arm and Claudia rises with her. 

“Take me to bed, if John asks, I wish to be alone and I won’t be joining them tonight.”

 

Isaac washed the clothes as he was supposed to, scrubbing each article until his knuckles hurt, then he turned them over, rinsed each part inside out and absolutely, purely clean, knowing if he hadn’t he would be in trouble, and there was no going out tonight if he didn’t finish his chores. Sighing, Isaac tossed the finish shirt in the basket and picked the basket up, going to the laundry line by the back of the house. He put the basket down on the wet wood of the distressed and aching steps that threatened to break at any moment. Going inside, he grabbed the clothes pins from the drawer in the counter and went back out to hang them up on the line, each piece of clothing carefully hung up to dry, since they couldn’t afford wringers to dry them (And a wringer could only do so good) he was forced to hang them while they drip, careful not to wrinkle a single shirt or piece of clothing. 

Once his father had found him trying to squeeze a shirt dry and he got whipped 3 times on the post standing yonder, just past the big old hickory tree that stuck out like a weed in the otherwise barren and dead yard- dead as the people his father done bury daily. His time was well ticking and he rushed to hang the clothes so he could get the rice in the pot to cook, and get the bread kneaded and in the oven before his father comes back from where he made the coffins to put the dead in. 

The boy flinched as he scraped his already raw and sore knuckles on the wiring of the line, sighing as he pulled away not to get blood on it, only to almost let the shirt drop in the mood, catching it with his clean hand, he tossed it in the basket and took the basket inside, seeking a bandage or a small towel to wrap on his finger so he could finish. Though it seemed hopeless now and the clouds of a storm were rolling in- if Isaac had found anything out, it was that when clouds rolled in like that, rain was coming. So he rushes back out with the basket and yanks all the clothes off the line and brings them in. 

He tosses the basket beside the table and sets to put the rice in the pot, pulls the ribs from the oven (roast in the oven 4 hours, just like T’any said) and puts it out to cool, the meat not quite as an 8 hour roast but tender enough to eat. Wiping his hands, he moves to the bread and kneads it in the bowl before molding it in its cold copper tin to bake. He replaces the previously cooking meat with the bread and then settles in the chair with a book to wait, hoping he hadn’t forgotten anything. It was nearing on the half hour mark of six, he was invited to be over by eight. 

 

Stiles had rode his horse over down the lane, just a few hundreds of acres away were the argents and he rode over fast, jumping off and merely inviting himself in- they were a second family to him and really, he had no shame just walking in. 

“Evening M’lord, care for dinner or a drink?” One young slave asks and Stiles declines. 

“Do you know where Ally is? I was just wondering if perhaps she would come over- one of her suitors are coming over.”

“Is that so? Well she’s just up in the drawing room, down this wing here, want me to show ya or can ya manage, M’lord?”

“I can manage- What did you say your name was again?”

The young slave seemed taken aback. “Rodney, Sir.”

“Right, Rodney. I’ll remember that.” Stiles smiles and moves on to the drawing room down the west hall and enters, to find none other than Lydia Martin herself sat flirtatiously with Allison. Allison looks up unaffected but Lydia seems confused.

“You invited him?” Lydia whispers and Allison laughs. 

“Stiles needs no invitation to my house, surely y’all got bored when you just got home from work?”

“Mama was… not in the mood to talk tonight and Odette had gone out to see Old Lady Lesher again. She be sick, you know? The boys are out with papa I s’pose but I thought I’d just invite you over, seeing that you’d appreciate some flirting time with Isaac Lahey.”

“You think if we married he’d move in here with me?”

“Where else would you go? Be a wretched maid in the house of the Lahey the rest of your life? Surely he’d move here.”

“What about Scott?”

“You ought to become a Spaniard, or just move to Texas. McCall’s got himself a big ol’ house down there, y’all’ll thought somebody might’a taken offense to the color of his wife but they seem to prosper good and well.”

“Ya think she was very happy watching them take the land of her people?” 

“Probably not but so it goes and goes, does it not?” 

“It does, I s’pose. Can Lydia come if I go?”

“I… Wouldn’t decline any invitation,” Stiles responds with a slight smile, even if he didn’t want that  _ girl  _ in his house, he saw no good coming from declining the offer. Allison would beat him into tomorrow for being outwardly rude. 

“Then you must leave so we can get ready, unless you wish to stay?”

“No, that’d be all. Is your grandfather alright? I heard he wasn’t doing so well lately.”

“Oh he’s just cranky, that’s all. You know granddaddy Gerard, always one to have his pants tied in knots.”

Stiles laughs, fidgeting slightly with his collar. “Of course. I oughta be off now but… I assure you’ll both be there?” He asks, a hand running through his hair and Lydia looks up from the pillow she’s playing with, seeing he’s watching her for an answer. 

“Sure I’ll be there,” she assures, hoping maybe it would grind his nerves she actually planned on going and he rolls his eyes before glancing to Allison who pushes him out, kisses him on the cheek before letting him go. 

Stiles leaves and trots on his horse Lightning, slowly back home. Stiles feels… tired… and his mind is a bit of a fog. He thinks that things are happening but he doesn’t really know what and he doesn’t care much. Also he doesn’t understand Allison’s friendship with Lydia- or at least, how it happened. 

“Lightening, one day me and you are gonna run far from here, maybe we’ll end up in Utah with the mormons and live in blissful seclusions,” Stiles mumbles as he relaxes against his horse's mane, letting the Stallion walk them home. “Jack can have the farm and Odette will have found a good husband, I’d be sure of it and I could live lonely as can be as a small farmer or a small town lawyer in the west somewhere, where nobody would know me and we’d be masked strangers. Nobody could find us.” Stiles yawns and hugs the horse's neck. “You’d lead me straight home no matter what though, wouldn’t you? Mama would die of fright if I ever done left this place. Besides what good can I do when I’m not home? It’s my duty to stay, right?” The horse huffs in response and Stiles takes it he’s being ridiculous. “Let me be, I’m tired god dammit.”

Though there wasn’t much to be tired about yet.

 

Isaac is in the kitchen, setting the table when his father walks in the door, the thunder just setting in. His father looks around spotting the wet laundry in the basket and scowls. “What is that doing there? Why is that there?”

“It was bout’a rain so I decided I’d hang tomorrow when the sun is up.”

“When it’s already wrinkled and dry?” His father asks, tone dark and bitter, Isaac flinches. 

“I made ribs,” He veers and his father smacks him upside the head. 

“You think I care about the god damn ribs!” He throws the dinner off the counter onto the floor and Isaac looks a little bit broken that the dinner he worked so hard on had gone to waste, he would just feed it to the cats then. “Go hang the damn clothes down in the basement before I hang you on the hickory outside. Git with ya!” 

The rain pours outside.

Isaac quickly moved to take the clothes then went to hang them downstairs in the dainty, moss covered, filthy basement. It smelled and the clothes would smell too- Isaac would sooner wash the clothes than he would hang them down here but he’d do what he’s told than suffer the consequences. Nobody needed to wake and find him a dead man hanging because of clothes- after all, they left Ireland for a reason and that reason was his mother; _ dead  _ mother. 

His father had gotten a bit too drunk one night and the next morning Isaac had found her drowned in the tub- his father was shocked and they left on the next ship to America- he was only ten then but now he was just about 19, he was bound to his father and they no longer lived in the cities but this dainty area in Virginia where his father buried the dead. Maybe his father was no longer an avid drinker, but that didn’t stop his temper and it didn’t stop the frequent blows Isaac got. 

 

The hour of 7.30 came and Isaac had finished cleaning his fathers mess, had set the bread in the cupboard for when it was wanted and he had left the rice in the pot. He went to his room to get ready and his father walks in, watches him for a moment as Isaac disregards him, pulling off the dirty rags for a more suitable looking suit (one that Scott had given him, more Spanish style but acceptable all the same.)

“Where are ye goin’?” His father asks.

“I was invited over to the Stilinski house. It’s Stiles night off and his mother wanted him to have a few friends over, since he’d had a bit of a week.” 

“So y’er just goin to leave?” 

“Sounds about right.”

“Be back before sunrise.”

“We’ll see how it goes.”

“I said be back before sunrise-”

“I said we’ll see how it goes. Don’t leave me goin’ on to a Lords house with a bruise, they’ll arrest ya. Stiles will be after ye before ye damn well known it.” 

That kept his father quiet and he left, Isaac sighed, pulling the suit jacket on before changing out of his pants for dress pants. He rubs some cologne on his neck and decides to leave, after placing his shoes on. The rain has stopped to a mere drizzle and Isaac, before he can assess his means of travel, is greeted by his father. 

“They sent for ya a ride, a small carriage for when yer ready.”

“How ironic. I was just thinkin of how I was goin to get there. I’ll be leaving now.”

“Alright.” His father watched him go and Isaac left the house. 

  
  


Stiles entered his mother’s room, not the one she shared with his father but her own personal changing room with the small, queen sized bed in the center, where she was laid with a book and a cup of tea. Her hair undone and fell out in a way that Stiles hasn’t seen in awhile; disheveled and not at all put together. She looked up briefly and Stiles settled beside her, his hair slightly mused from the wind and his clothes damp from being caught in the rain. 

“Why you’re all cold, and look at you, you’re wet! You’re shivering! Go, go put dry clothes on before you catch ill,” Claudia frets, waving him off with her hand, sounding slightly panicked. 

“Mama I’ll be just fine, I’ve been in caught in rain before. I just went to go see Allison to invite her over and Lydia had been there, so I s’pose she’s comin’ too. Are you alright mama? Papa says you refuse to see him, what’s goin on?”

“Nothin’ I’m just in a shaded mood, go on and get dressed. Git with you.” 

“ _ Mama- _ ” 

“Stiles! I said go, now listen to your mama before I have T’any whip you out in back. Ya hear? You may think you a grown man but you’re still  _ my  _ baby, and until I’m six feet under I’ll have none of your whining and prodding, you have no right in my business. I said I’m fine, take that your mama is fine and go. Go and go have fun. I’ll make sure the servants don’t wake ya when tomorra comes but if you don’t leave now I’ll have you slavin’ with the fields men from the crack of dawn.”

Stiles hangs his head and nods. “Yes’m.” He didn’t know what had gotten into his mother but he understood she had the worst of intentions if he didn’t leave, his mother was not the person to bite back on a promise, no matter what. He learned that when he was 5 and lashed out on her, then she had him punished, working with the T’any for days, and T’any was a hard teacher, even if she got a baby rocked on her hip. She was younger than, older now, in her fifties but T’any, Stiles had found, only hardens with age. 

He goes to his room and has his Valet help him out of his clothes before putting on new ones. He retrieves a wrist watch and snaps it on, looking it over. “Pop-pop done sent it down from Kentucky,” He tells the Valet and the man laughs. 

“I’d saw.” 

“I’m thinkin’ I’ll go down there before the summer ends, don’t that sound delightful?”

“As Cherry pie, Sir. Why were you in the rain?”

“I had just left to get Allison.”

“And where is she?” 

“Out and about, I s’pose. She said they’d be comin soon.”

“They?” The Valet asks and Stiles nods.

“Aye, they. The devil’s daughter got herself acquainted with Allison, so she be comin’ too since she’d be over. Assume she’d be stayin the night there and all. Has Odette returned?” 

“Not yet. She said she be stayin there the rest a the week, tendin to her. The girl gon be a good nurse when she older, Lord’s Mercy on her kindred soul.”

“Bless her, she’s a sweet girl. Did she take Caden with her? I know he does love her so and be about with her so.”

“Nah, he done went to the barns with Ol’ Jack Fallow. Keepin the horses and the pigs and the cows all done and good.”

“He loves the animals,” Stiles recalls. “Our own Jack done scared a bunny off for him the other day and the poor boy was awfully disappointed if I recall it right. He only meant to pet it and Jack hopped over and scared him off.”

“Like you when you was young, what your father prides in.”

“Sure my father prides in him but he’d behead himself and hand his heart to the Sun God’s of the Aztec before he trust or pride in me.”

“Not so true.”

“True as the bright sun of day, Brett Talbot.”

“Y’all don’t have to use my full name you know.”

“I know but it has a nice sing-song kinda ring to it, don’t you think?”

“You’re awfully strange sometimes, if I was to consider you a friend, I may’a thought twice on it.”

“That’s brutually low. Besides we are friends, at least, I consider us friends.”

Brett laughs and does up the buttons of his shirt. “This is a ridiculous job.”

“It is but my life has ridiculous standards, you only have to stare at my beautiful body naked all days of the week.”

“I have minimal complaints. You’re fit,” Brett states.

Stiles scoffs, Raising his neck so Brett can adjust the collar and he does just so. “Something you need to admit, Mr. Talbot?”

“I’m only attracted to you.”

“How alluring,” Stiles teases and they laugh. 

“Think ya gonna marry Miss Martin?”

“I’m not so sure, our parents don’t seem fond.”

“Fond and good dowers never seem to correlate properly. You’ll be adjusted to her just fine and then your bed is as good as hers.”

“How long do you think I could make without touching her?”

“In terms of her noticing, because probably not past your wedding night. In terms of your parents? Well I guess I could offer a trick or two if ya really needed it.”

“Maybe.”

“Sure.” Brett smiles and smoothes his hands over the chest of the shirt. “Would a tie be necessary, sir?”

“Not at all but if it’s according to my mother it must be, though she’s ill in bed so it’s not like she’d know.”

“S’a good point,” Brett agrees and avoids eye contact, of course he knew what happened but he didn’t feel it his place to tell, it wasn’t his secret. 

Stiles nodded and poured himself a cup of wine and brett one too. “Have a drink with me?”

“Not the best idea, Sir. Probably gon get me in trouble with the head of house.”

“The butler has no reins on me, don’t you worry.”

“Got em on me.”

“I’d get you acquitted.” 

“Sure ya would,” Brett assured before taking the cup and Stiles grinned victoriously. He sips his own wine before turning to look at the book he left on the desk, his mind racing as he looked out the window, searching for signs of Isaac’s carriage. Brett came beside him and settled with his shoulder against the wall.

“Why so distraught?” 

“Just a lot of thinking, you know?” 

“Well since we’re such good friends, why don’t you tell me what you’re thinking about,” Brett offers graciously and Stiles shrugs as he slumps down into the chair. Opening the book, he flips to the page he left off. 

“I don’t know to be honest. I’m thinking a lot of things- am I s’pose to be nice to Lydia because i’d be hosting her or can I remain an asshole?” 

“I’d be nice unless you plan on gettin’ skinned by your mother. If Allison likes her than she surely ain’t so bad, eh?” 

“You’d think so but I just can’t stand her. She acts like she’s king or somethin’.” Stiles sips from his wine. 

“Well get used to likin her before you're stuck in an unhappy marriage, charged a lechery, make anotha woman fall head over heels for ya and then you end up in trouble,  _ big _ trouble.” 

“Who’d charge me? The papers would go right to me.”

“There’s law enforcement, they’d arrest ya for touchin another girl.”

“Don’t you sleep around with men and women alike? Here ye are, not a lecher and not on my files.”

“Or are you just protecting me?”

“Well it don’t make no difference. You’re here. Nobody cares anymore who’s been sleeping around with who.”

“You’re not sleeping around, we both know it. I’m just saying, grow to like her before you make yourself miserable. Maybe you’d change after marriage- no longer a virgin, nothin’ to protect.” 

“I get it, I know what you mean.” 

Brett looked outside as a carriage drew up. “You got’s guests.”

“Alright.” Stiles resigns, shutting the book and getting up to leave the room, Brett watching him leave and go downstairs. Stiles going to the north hall drawing room where everything was set up, entering to find Lydia and Allison already waiting. Allison cooley lounging on the couch, spreading her arm over the arm. 

“Helloooo!” She cooes and Lydia stands idly beside her. 

“Uhm Hi,” Lydia follows up and Stiles waves in half acknowledgement. 

“How’d ya do?” Stiles asks. “Allison sit up would you, make like there’s a guest present and not like if Isaac Lahey comes in here we’d have to leave you alone for the rest of the evening.”

“And whyyy not?” She cooes, giggling.

“Because I’d appreciate you  _ not  _ having sex on my couch thank you very much.”

“Can I have sex in your room?”

“No!” 

“Oh why not!” 

“Because… I-Th- That’s _ gross _ ! Have you ever even had sex before?”

“Scott and I have made good use of time once or twice.”

“Yes and I’ve railed Karen Rothman over in a barn,” Stiles shoots back defensively, so maybe he was the only virgin he happened to know, no big deal, right? He shakes it off and sits down. 

“Whats the matter with ya?” Allison prods. “Y’all don’t gotta-”

“Quit nagging, I’m just tired.”

“Tired because you’ve never gotten a dead man’s sleep, you stay awake all night and all day- no wonder you’re so tired!” Allison scoffs. 

“Sure sure, I have things to do Ally.”

“Yeah I bet you do, things more important than your own good.”

“I’m all fine and dandy, just a bit worn.”

“Worn like chattel in the market.”

“Chattel?” Lydia interrupts. “Like slave chattel?”

“No like pigs, yes Lydia, slave chattel,” Stiles tells her as if it were obvious. 

“How can you stand to speak like that?”

“How do you mean?” 

“I mean how do you stand to call them as if they were animals! They’re not animals they’re people with lives and souls and big beating hearts just like ours!”

“Alright John Laurens, let’s step back a minute and pray calm. Y’all can go tell that to the slave owners further south- They’ll hang ya for being a negro lover.”

“And can’t they say the same about you?”

“I’m not a flying liberal.” 

“So if somebody-”

“It’s the way things are done Lydia- If I was asked to vote against it, I would. If I was told to preach against it, I would. But the church be talkin itself into vile conviction on holy rights of enslaving the inferior and the people down there be talkin like you done stripped them of their skin if you suggest ending slavery. See, I know when to talk and I know when not to.”

“You’re a hypocrite.”

“I’m rational. I suggest you don’t speak out like that around the elders, they’ll whip ya for speaking like that.”

“He’s right Lydia,” Allison says. 

“It’s wrong,” she counters.

“It’s just how things are. I love the people who work for me, I love T’any and I would do anything to see her buy a big ol house of her own but things are too deeply engraved to go back now. This is how things are down here, y’all got your slaves or y’all sell em for profit. Y’all grow your crops and live on. That’s it, that’s all. There’s no profound science to it. I grew up without it, Ally grew up with it. It’s a way of life, it’s something that happens- could things be lighter? Sure. Can people be better to their workers? Yes, absolutely. Do we have any say in such a change? Can I do anything to stop it? Probably not anything significant. I can only speak out so many times, people can only do so much but there are men who rape their wives and their are men who hit their children and those same men are the men who tie their slaves up and beat them. There are good men who beat their slaves and those men will suffer their consequences in due time of Judgement day. You say there’s no good to be had and I believe you. There isn’t much good to be had out of it, but our whole way of life is destined to shatter in calamitous pieces, there will be nothing, absolutely nothing left of anybody I’d ever known if they were to abolish slave labor. This is our way of life, this is how we run economy, this is how you can wear your pretty cotton dresses on hot summer day or smoke weed in the evening with dinner. It’s just the way things are.” 

“It doesn’t have to be,” Lydia tries. 

“That’s like saying if we took your fathers factory workers away, or if we just shut down your factories and left it to small businesses. You wouldn’t be happy about it! You would barely be able to live,” Stiles rounds off as Isaac comes in and Allison immediately sits up, lifting the hem of her dress to push her breasts up and shifting her hair to the side, standing and extending her hand to him- Isaac laughs at the intent of impression.

“Allison, I didn’t know you’d be here,” Isaac greets.

“You’re being irrational!” Lydia exclaims at Stiles.

“It’s not irrational! It’s the same concept!” Stiles yells back. 

“Of course I’d be here, I’d never pass up a chance to see you,” Allison giggles and Isaac smiles, kissing the knuckles of her fingers. 

“You’re absolutely impossible! Did you know that? Impossible!” Lydia yells back, huffing in annoyance and Isaac’s attention is turned on them. 

“Are they okay?” Isaac asks

“They don’t really see eye to eye,” Allison informs, wrapping herself in Isaac’s arms and Isaac looks down slightly perplexed, Allison decides she likes how his arms feel around her, though part of her remembers how much warmer Scott McCall felt, how much more comfortable he was. 

“ _ I’m _ impossible? You’re the one that’s-”

“Me? I’m the one that’s doing what? Being rational?”

“Rational? You didn’t even let me finish my sentence, you’re everything but rational!” 

“I am very rational thank you. You’re the one arguing that slavery is okay!” 

“It’s not okay, it’s a necessary evil. People do it because it’s what we have to do!” 

“Enslaving people is what you have to do? I should think you know better!”

“You should think I- You don’t even  **_know_ ** me! You’re crazy, you know that? You are a total complete nutcase!” 

“Excuse me?”

“A satanist at best!” 

“I’m a Satanist? Youre the one preaching-”

“Preaching the better of my people-” 

“Oh I’m sorry is this Kingdom Stilinski? These are you humble subjects now oh Prince Charming? I don’t think so! We live in the same God Damn nation!” 

“Don’t you say God’s name in vain-”

“Oh thank you, father for scolding me so-”

“And if it means anything to you, it might as well be two nations! There is nothing-”

“As if I’m a child! You think I’m a child don’t you?”

“Similar between either of us! You’re all pompous-” 

“You really are something else, you’re the crazy one!” 

“Lazy, despicable people!” 

“Alright then,” Allison swoops in, parting them from each other, the two close enough to throttle the other if one should choose, Isaac taking Stiles by the arm. “I think you both need to cool down.”

“Isaac, hi,” Stiles greets, cheeks tinted pink with embarassment now. “I didn’t hear you enter, I was…  _ Distracted. _ ” 

“No worries,” Isaac mumbles. “Think we can go get something in the kitchen?” 

“Yeah, yeah of course,”Stiles mumbles, out of breath from yelling so much and gestures that Isaac follows him, out of the room to the kitchen. 


	7. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After finding out about Claudia's loss, the family shuts in on itself but Claudia- after 2 months, decides its time to move on and pays the Martin's a visit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A much shorter chapter but a lot is going to happen next chapter- hopefully I'll update by tomorrow!

 

Isaac sat in the kitchen with a plate of food and Stiles had joined him with a slice of cornbread, leaned back into his chair, drained from the dizzying fight from Lydia. Perhaps it wasn’t as brutal as he might of thought or perhaps he just hadn’t fought with anyone like that in a long time but his heart was pounding heavy in his chest- his mind numb. 

“What was that about?” 

“Hm?”

“With Lydia?”

“She drives me crazy and not in a good way.” 

T’any laughs from her corner in the kitchen. Stiles huffs. “She’s horrible. I can’t stand her. She’s genuinely the spawn of the devil ‘imself.”

“If you say so,” Isaac scoffs. “She’s beautiful.”

“In face.”

“And maybe at heart, perhaps she means well.”

“Are you defending her?”

“I’m just saying- I know what it’s like to be new down here.”

“Yeah but you’re not a northerner.”

“Yeah I’m an Irishman, that seems to be worse. I’m as worthless as a black man in this country.”

“I’m sorry,” Stiles mumbles, placing his plate on the table and using his fork to cut into the thick slice of bread. “People are horrible, I get it, but like what does she want me to do?”

“I couldn’t answer that for you, even if I wanted to.”

Stiles huffs and leans back into his chair. He thinks to what Brett had told him, about loving Lydia before he ends up doing wrong. He wonders if it would ever work out, or if he could sooner compromise for a marriage with Beth from the county over, or perhaps, if it really came down to it, he might marry Karen. “I’m stuck with her, aren’t I?”

“In the scheme of things, I wouldn’t bet your life on anything else. If it puts your spirits up, Scott’s visiting this weekend.”

“Oh?” 

“Yeah.”

“Huh. S’pose I’d have to steal him off for a hunt in the woods, time to ourselves. Care to join?”

“As if my father would let me outta the house after today.”

“What happened?”

“Rain storm came so I didn’t put the laundry up. Hanging in the cellar but he’s gonna beat me tomorrow because the clothes smell like dirt.”

“He’s a wicked man, are ya sure you don’t want me to do nothin’ about him?”

“What could you really do, Stiles? What proof do you have to throw at a court? I’m leaning on nineteen, I’m no  _ child.”  _

“Just because you’re-”

“Let it up, it’s alright.”

“Aye, okay.” 

 

Lydia was sat on the couch in tears, face in her hands as she cries. Allison was rubbing her back, trying to soothe her. And she didn’t know why she was crying, she didn’t know what made the tears well up so fast the minute he left- maybe his choice words of calling her a  _ nutcase  _ and  _ crazy,  _ maybe it was her body’s way of telling her that her heart was broken. She hiccups a bit as she sobs, trying to piece herself back together, trying to fit everything back the way it should be. 

“I-I n-eed tiss-ues,” she requests in broken sentences and Allison nods, going to get her the soft tissues from the decorated box and offers them to Lydia who sucks in a breath and in a matter of moments is putting herself back together, fixing the damage. Cleans running makeup and sucks in a breath, Allison had never seen someone put themselves together so fast- she wonders how many times Lydia has done this before. 

“Should I get you water?” Allison offers, hesitant about her way of speech. 

“Please..”

Allison nods and Lydia doesn’t want to be alone so she follows her to the kitchen where Stiles and Isaac are sitting. “I mean I can’t just  _ turn against him!  _ I just…” Stiles sighs in a fashion that is so undone and subdued, he’s leaned back in a chair looking more at home in the kitchen chair than he ever had looked and Lydia’s heart sinks with rapid succession, defeat in her attempt to block him out, to be upset- yet she finds herself going soft at the tired look in his eyes, the pained expression dousing his face but he’s quickly put together at the sight of the girls. 

“Go talk to him, in person… Go down to see him, and while you’re at it go to your nan’s get yourself a wife.”

Stiles glances towards Lydia. “I think my parents have their eyes set on a couple’a girls- I don’t I’ve got much choices, but anyhow, it’s not matter.” Stiles shrugs, taking another forkful of bread and T’any places a plate of pulled chicken in front of him and Stiles knows better than to argue, so he places the bread alongside the meat and continues eating. 

“Girls sit ya selves down and eat, you like rice Missy North? I’ll put you some pulled chicken and rice,” She informs, sitting them down on at the table and Lydia ends up beside Stiles, her cheeks burning a bright pink and Stiles ignores her. It isn’t long before two plates are set before them and Allison grins. 

Lydia looks hesitant and T’any watches her with an expecting look. “I’m sure it’s delicious but I’ve already eaten,” Lydia informs and T’any scoffs.

“Already eaten? Girl you think his momma and daddy wanna marry him to such a thin girl, get some meat on ya’ ass before ya got no meat to give,” She scolds. “Eat.”

“I… I’m sorry but I’ve-”

“Eat your plate or expect no more food comin outta me, trust me, you marry that boy and I’ll feed him like I always have but I’ll let your pretty northy self starve until she find somebody else to feed her. No sir, won’t take advantage of me. Eat.” 

“I don’t think I’m going to be-”

“Lydia, let up, she’s an old woman!” Stiles scolds. “Just eat the plate. T’any you’ve done yourself out, go on to bed and I’ll make sure she done finishes her plate.”

“I ain’t old! And why you defendin her?  I thought you thought she was a bitch.”

“She is but ain’t nobody deserves you whippin them, trust me, I’d know. Go to bed,” Stiles assures, standing to usher the older woman out of the room and she gives him a look and Stiles smiled innocently before she goes on up the stairs. 

“You think I’m a bitch?” Lydia counters when he meanders back inside. 

“I think you’re a lot of things, do you care at all?” Stiles asks, sitting down. 

“Perhaps I do,” She informs and Stiles scoffs.

“What a faulty girl, don’t you know better than to think of what other people see in you?”

“What does she mean when we’re married?”

“Rich people conform together, you’re the richest and prettiest damn thing for miles around and I’m all the same, there’s word that we’re getting hitched but our parents have made no agreements.”

“How do you know?”  
“My momma tells me everything and I was serious, you ought’a eat your plate before she whips ya tomorra morning- better yet, we do get married, she’s _never_ gonna cook for you.”

“You’re so strange,” Lydia inquires. “You’re like ice water on a hot day- hot and cold, can’t make up your damn mind. Are you being nice to me or do you hate me?”

“I’m subjected by personal beliefs to hate you, and by ethical belief to be kind to ya.” 

“And what personal beliefs are you standing on?”

“That nobody like your family mosey’s on down here in August, lookin’ to live here while staying in a rental household without lookin for trouble- but you could always prove me wrong.”

Her eyes gleamed with a bit of hope as she cuts into her bread, though she knows better than to expect too much from him- his constant neglect of her abilities was seemingly unwavering. She wonders momentarily if he would ever love her- she doesn’t voice the idea considering their friends were still there. “Well if you do plan on marrying me, I hope you plan on not hating me.” 

“We’ll see how it goes.”

“Of course you will.” 

  
  


After that night, Stiles might have all but forgotten about Lydia, the rest of his week moseying along with the summer heat. He doesn’t care for her at all, he finds that he forgets all about their potential marriage. He’s more concerned with the affairs of his newly ill mother who does not seem to let on that she is ill at all- and he finds that she is not physically ill, he also finds that she likes tending to that new lemon tree of hers. Stiles wants to do what he can, but she’s relentless in her ways of keeping everybody otherwise uninvolved. 

The family grows increasingly worried about Claudia until a few weeks later, she confesses the mishap of her unborn child and they all grow sympathetic on their mother, and John, much like his wife, is more than a little heartbroken about the news. Of course, this takes its toll and they are all worried sick for her, she becomes quiet and refuses much company- normally only takes Victoria Argent for tea when she comes over, or on occasion her sisters. Claudia is somber and doesn’t understand her dull change but as time grows on she wants to regain control of her life- just simply has no idea how and with no rhyme or reason, she has nobody to help her professionally and grows frustrated constantly. She keeps away from her children, though Stiles and Caden are ever persistent in visiting her and coaxing her.

In turn of this outcome, Stiles isolates himself for the next couple of months- working and settling court cases, nobody sees him outside of the courtroom and church- people wonder what’s struck him to be so antisocial, in which the young bachelor had always been one for a good party and Stiles in turn just replies he must be home to tend to things- _ personal _ things- and goes home to find his mother by her lemon tree. Though there was an account that he had in fact visited Lady Lesher at her funeral and had helped bury her but the funeral was not a public one and was only attended by those invited, in which many were not and only her family and his were attending. Otherwise he has become a shut in, coming and going without any announcement- some speculate he’s knocked a girl up and is keeping himself inside with the girl from speculation, other perceive he’s fallen ill, some comment that something has happened inside the house- the utmost of scandal rising up in the towns talk.

This affair goes on for about two months, the rest of the world, even Allison is denied entry to see Stiles, and it’s really his mother who reaches out first. It is October 16th and she is sitting now on the couches of the Martin household with Natalie Martin across from her. She has decided that in the ways of the world, she needs to ensure Stiles’ safety and being, that this is what she needs to do and if she is going to start getting back into the swing of things, her job is to marry him off first- throw all the grandest parties for him, make sure he’s set and off and happy and maybe then, her life will return to normal. She collects all her pride, puts on a fine dress and even does her hair and puts on some lipstick. People are stunned to see the Lady’s carriage pass through the town, some hope that the family is opening up again. 

Claudia, now sitting with Natalie, just wants what is best. 

“There is a war comin ya know- there is a hard downfall coming- and I know that Stiles is doin all that he can to fix things- bless my babies heart- he has just returned from a trip further south but… I want ‘im to be entirely stable and I oughta’ hope you want the same for Lydia- we engage them and we’re both tied to a large collective sum, they can prosper alongside the new business we’ve gotten. God forbid something happens they’ll be alright.”

Natalie tilts her head and thinks about the proposition for a moment. “You wanted them to marry from the start,” Claudia continues and Natalie waves her hand. 

“Lydia hasn’t gotten any other suitors, I suppose it’ll do.”

“You mean it?” 

“Yes.” She nods. “Though we should hold off on telling him- let your son rest.”

“Alright,” Claudia agrees and she fiddles with her dress. “I must be goin,” she says and stands and Natalie takes her arm and looks at her and Claudia offers a tired smile before pulling away and leaving. Everything had since been upside down, she couldn’t think straight, she was depressed and John- oh poor John, she hated pushing him out so but she didn’t know what else she could do. She was cooped up in that house all day with only the memory of her dead baby to serve.

  
  


Meanwhile in the Argent household, Allison is lounging on the couch, writing another telegram to Stiles. He hasn’t replied to any of her letters since the night she came over with Isaac and she wonders what she’s done wrong to her brother- whenever Odette is over, she says that is nothing and he needs time to himself. Of course, even Odette seems bleak in her pursuits, anybody who questions her she flat out denies anything and everything, of course she defends her brothers good name to the end of the earth and Allison has as well, knowing full well that there was no girl and that he was otherwise innocent. Allison, in turn has faced many of her troubles regarding her own marriage- caught between Isaac and Scott. It was a complex situation. 

_ My dearest Stiles _

_ I wonder where you’ve gone off to frequently and I admit freely that I miss you unlike I’ve ever  _

_ Missed anybody before. My darling, I love you so and I long to see your face again. Why do you hide from _

_ The world? Where have you been off to? What have you been doing? I heard that you just returned from  _

_ New orleans, I know you’d always wanted to go. What was it like? Everything you ever hoped?  _

_ I must turn to you for help, for I am in dire need of your advice, since you always are the best to  _

_ Advise me. See, it seems I’ve fallen into a problem with my courting between Scott McCall and Isaac Lahey. _

_ It seems that I am utterly in love with Scott McCall but I don’t know if I am ready to live that far away. But  _

_ Also, perhaps i’m afraid of my own heart. I can’t seem to piece together the fear or the hesitance but I _

_ Also love so dearly mister Isaac Lahey. Maybe i just am faint on the notion of love. _

_ Tell me dear brother, have you found a lover? A girl? A man even?  _

_ Please return to me soon, with all my greatest love and care _

_ Allison Argent _

Allison puts the paper down to dry as Lydia walks into the room, seeing her frowning she gives her a sympathetic look and places her hand on Allison’s shoulder. “He hasn’t mailed you back?”

“Not once. It’s as if he’s dead…” she mutters. “God I wish he’d tell me what the hell is going on in his life. I’m sending it over once the ink dries.”

“Haven’t you gone over?”

“Nobody will allow any guests in. I heard his nana is coming up by train from Kentucky this weekend. If the situation in their household is so dire she’s required to come up- then…”

“Then what?”

“I don’t know! His nana only ever visits for holiday’s or births- or not even! Normally they visit her! I’m afraid Lydia, I’m oh so afraid, what if something has happened to him? What if… what if something has happened to one of the kids or his parents? Why won’t he talk to me?” She cries before collapsing into her drawn up knees and sobs, Lydia taken aback by the outbreak. Allison had always been so strong and Lydia finds no other solution but to sit on the duvet and pull Allison into her arms.

“Suppose it’s just the death of Lady Lesher or say it’s… perhaps he’s…” her voice trails off because she doesn’t know what to say, there is so much mystery regarding the man- one second he was boasting his fame and the next he was a ghost- and even if, he has people talking about him like he’s the holy saint of Virginia. Lydia decides she doesn’t like this side of Allison very much and wanted to fix things. 


	8. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lydia Martin Pays Stiles a visit, has a chat with her mothers and ends up at Allison's house after hours, where she finds Isaac lying ill in bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a less intricate chapter- maybe due to my own fatigue or something made to match Stiles' fatigue in the first half, things are picking up a bit otherwise!

 

“You  _ will  _ let me in, I’m not giving you an option,” Lydia demands of the hall boy who seems helpless, the poor boy was only 12- what was he supposed to do? He couldn’t just let her in against his orders, it wasn’t his job to do so. 

“But Miss… His lordship requests no guests and I-”

“ _ Will _ allow me inside or I’ll allow myself inside.”

“I’ll be whipped!”

“I’ll take the blame.”

“Hold on, lemme get Vernon.” The boy disappears and Lydia glances towards the stairs before she decides she isn’t waiting, not on anybody, so she goes and makes her way up the stairs, figuring she’d find him herself. Her heart is pounding, she doesn’t know what to expect and regret fills her conscious as she does- what does she say when she just waltzes in unannounced? 

The young woman shakes her head then continues to glance around the intricate hallway, decorated in portraits of his fathers family and she wonders what’s happened to them, she sees one of his own family- mother, father and siblings, he looks handsome in that portraits (she notes), he has light color eyes and she tries to remember the way they catch light, if they really are the color of honey like in the pictures then moves forward, taking a turn. Lydia notices one room has a pattern on it, and his name is carved in the wood- it looked like some sort of art project, the kinds teacher’s encouraged children to do in School, she pushes it open to find an old nursery, a long unused one and figures that each child had had their own, the walls a dim yellow and the room saturated with dust. She shuts the door and moves forward, hitting another land of stairs, she moves up them and at the end of the hallway there’s a carved out, green oak door with gold paint in the decorations and a gold doorknob. A cat lures into the doorway and she follows it, stepping in quietly she sees him there, hunched over a large desk, hand fisted in his hair and she can’t tell if he’s sleeping or awake, she doesn’t even notice him glance up to see her, and jumps when he speaks. 

“Hello Lydia,” he practically sing songs in an exasperated tone as he leans back in his chair. He sounds significantly older, she notices, as if he was tired, tired of the world, tired of the day, tired of life. “I’m just reading over some paperwork, you can come join me. Do you want something?” He offers, standing to pour her a cuppa tea regardless of her answer. She joins him at the desk, her steps slow and nervous- he was too calm, and she wonders if he’s angry though when she reaches the desk she realizes he looks like he hasn’t slept in a few days and she sees papers strewn about the desk, many marked with the name of her parents. “Your parents have caused quite the stir while I was gone, I hope you know I’ll probably have to put in a word or two with your father and if he doesn’t give up the land he stole he’ll have to be sent to Columbia for arrest.”

“Columbia?” Lydia asks startled, then wonders further on what he’s said. “Gone? Where did you go?” 

He disregards the latter question. “Well… probably. I’m not a big enough lawyer to settle this, of course, I settle his return of the land- which he had no right to kick the people off of- but if he refuses, I think I oughta send him to a higher court. It’s just the way things are.”

“I understand. I… have a letter from Allison.” 

“I see.” He nods, handing her the cup of tea. “Oh… Did you want sugar or cream in it?”

“Two lumps sugar please.” 

He nods and proceeds to place the sugar in the cup, she watches it dissolve and stirs, looking up at him she watches him sit down. “How many of those are for my parents?” She queries. 

“Beats me, I haven’t  _ counted _ for heaven's sake.” He sighs, rubs a hand over his face and leans back. “I  _ told  _ you your parents would be trouble.”

“I’m sorry.” She pauses. “What happened? You don’t seem like yourself-” not the man that she remembered and Lydia is startled by the bitter quiet between them, the tired expression on such a beautiful face was misplaced, it was a crime being there stealing all the light she remembered. “You’ve been going to early morning church, nobody has heard from you since August… Some people think you’re ill. Are you ill?”

“Not at all. Just… Mama hasn’t been up to par, I’m needed at home and in other places. We’ve been… in a state of mourning, it’s improper to attend parties and gala’s in the state of mourning.”

“Mourning Lady Lesher?”

“No… no…” he hesitates, he pauses. “A family member of ours has died, and I s’pose it’s taken its toll. I’ve found myself otherwise unable to reply to people- I have had a bit of weight on my shoulders and I suppose this is no help.” He gestures to the papers on the table.

“I’m sorry. Will you write Allison back? She was crying, she misses you so much.”

“I might. I suppose I never don’t write her back but I’ve not sent anything.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know, if I’m being real honest with ya. Life’s been tired.”

Lydia watches him with intensity, she’s burning inside because she’s angry at him for seeming so nonchalant about this, for being so quiet, for laying back in his chair with a hand pressed to his jaw and she doesn’t know he’s just returned from a trip but she hates him- she hates him an excruciating amount for acting as if his disappearance means nothing, as if the weight of his world was the only burden, as if this was all just something that people did on the normal day to day basis, she hates him, loathes him, she wants to punch him in the gut for not sending Allison’s letters  back. 

“So you’ve given up for being tired? That’s no reason, I’ve never seen Allison cry- you’re such a- why you are honestly inconsiderate. With no merit for anybody but yourself! You’re selfish, you’re greedy, you’re a cold-hearted brute who only cares for yourself!”

Stiles brow perks up in amusement before shaking his head and resting against the desk once more as he continues doing whatever it was he does with those papers and Lydia is infuriated as she watches him disregard her. “Pray yourself calm, Lydia. I’ve just had a setback, I’ve been away lately anyways, I don’t get half her letters. I’ve been a busy man and men are allowed to shy from society if they so wish. I’m not selfish for watching out for myself first- I love Allison but my mother and my estate come before her.”

“Is that so? Isn’t she family to you?”

“She is but it’s different.” Stiles sighs and shakes his head, straightening up. “I know full well you invited yourself into my house and I don’t care why you did it, but are you really just here to berate me because Allison cried? Trust me, she’s not as strong as she seems and I deem that neither are you. It’s not like the barn house burned down, all’s comin’ along just fine.” 

“You’re the town ghost, how is it coming along fine?”

“Why’s it occur to you?”

“Because I don’t like seeing you so pale and tired,” Lydia admits, fighting the urge to push back a strand of curled hair- she didn’t know it that his hair curled- and rake her hands through such thick locks, she’s captivated by his complexity, though also weary of how it seems he hadn’t put himself together (not properly) this morning, she doesn’t know he’s been gone, not really. 

“I… what?” Stiles asks, breaking the silence that reigns over them for the moment that she’s inspecting his hair. The sheer intimacy of her words make his flesh break into goosbumps, his arms seeming to scale like a reptile's with the bumps- he wants to curl away from her, though he hardens. “I just got home from a trip, I just haven’t rested on the train is all and I wanted to get some work in before I sleep.”

“Where did you go?”

“New Orleans.” 

“New Orleans…?” She pauses before smiling at him, sipping her tea and leaning back in her own chair. “Was it nice there?”

“S’pose so, it was very lively.”

“Well I’m sure you partied there,” She counters and he laughs leaning back and shaking his head, as he shrugs. 

“Not really, i did grab some drinks with some friends but there was nothing spontantaneous happening- not while I was there. They did have quite the elaborate funeral though- for a black man. It was another world, it’s so… ritualistic.” 

“Oh?”

“Yeah, I don’t know, it was just somethin else, somethin the church would call devil’s sin.”

“And that makes everything exciting huh?”

“Maybe.” they both smile and meet eyes before laughing a bit, though his laugh dies down and smiles fades, he rubs at an eye a bit, seeming a bit smaller and more childish, Lydia thought he was beautiful. “That don’t change anything though, I’m back here now and I’m gon have to get out there, find myself a wife.”

“I remember you saying something about us.”

“Us?” he seems confused. “What did I ever say about us? You’re a nut case, I forgot you existed until I smelled your perfume from the doorway.”

“I don’t smell  _ that much.”  _

“Damn right you do.” 

“I do not!” 

“You do!” 

They laugh again and this time the smile doesn’t completely fade from his features. “I don’t know what ideas about  _ us  _ you’ve got in your head but you’re wrong. There is no us.”

“There’s no you,” she counters. “Not anymore.”

“Of course there is. We’re attending a party soon and once the awkward fades I’m going to catch as grand ol’ hickory with his campaigne back in the day. You’ll see, I’ll find a good wife.”

“And what’s wrong with me?”

“You’re wicked.”

“I’m wicked?”

“A Salem Witch,” he proceeds and she rolls her eyes, amused at the title. 

“Am I casting spells on you?”

“I oughta keep charms and crosses on- how do you stand the church? I heard that witches can’t stand the lord’s good name. Do you stand it Miss Martin?”

“I’ve repented for all my sin.” 

“What a good girl, perhaps you should guide your parents.” 

Lydia laughs at that, leaning forward in her seat just a tad, hunched over a bit and he has an urge to straighten her (out of his own knit-picky ways) but doesn’t, he just watches her. She’s simple looking, in a plain cream colored dress with her hair pulled to the side in a braid, draped down over her breasts- she watches his eyes trace down to her breasts and inhales in a way that her chest puffs a bit, he looks up at her. He thinks she would have nice breasts beneath her dress, he also likes the necklace hanging on her neck- it compliments her hair. 

“Who braids your hair?” He queries and she laughs. 

“Were you really interested in my hair?”

“What did you think I was looking at?” he asks innocently before realizing where his eyes had been leveled with and laughs. “You  _ are  _ a wicked girl, I wasn’t looking at your chest.”

“Are you sure, Stilinski?”

“If I wanted a good look I wouldn’t be a whore and oggle in your presence, would I?” 

“I don’t know about that.”

“You should, it’s not my focus.” 

“I braid it.”

“Oh. It’s nice. I braid my sister’s hair sometimes.” 

“Really?”

“Sure.” He shrugs and lets his eyes scale the wall, she feels empty without his eyes on her and she wants his attention back on her, her heart constricts and god, maybe it’s just his mood, maybe he’d regret this later but Lydia just wants to keep him close- she knows this isn’t him opening up, this wasn’t anything special, this was just him being tired and talking, he wasn’t even really telling her things and reasonably, he was mostly insulting her- it tends to be most men did and yet Lydia feels she’s never done anything wrong. 

“Can we be friends?” Lydia suddenly asks and Stiles bursts out laughing. 

“Lordy you’re a hopeful one, Miss Martin. You ought’a run along before my mother runs in on us in here and banishes you from the house for all eternity.” 

Of course, she just got kicked out and her heart breaks, he sees her frown and shakes his head. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, Lydia Martin. I’m no fool.” 

“Who’s fooling you?” 

“Who’s not? Everybody is after me for the exact same reason, I have no reason to trust you over any other person.”

“So we can’t be friends?”

“We can’t be anything, city slicker girl. You’re wicked as those factories and… tell your daddy I have 4 strongly worded complaints, 6 warrants and counting law suits in the pursuits of getting Mister Dubroves land back.”

“Will do,” Lydia mumbles, leaving Allison’s letter on the desk. Stiles watches her leave and sighs, taking the letter with him and going downstairs and going to his room, tossing his jacket and stripping of his button up shirt and collar, in a plain white t-shirt (almost see through) and his trousers, flopping on the bed, he opens the letter and starts reading. 

 

_ My dearest Stiles _

_ I wonder where you’ve gone off to frequently and I admit freely that I miss you unlike I’ve ever  _

_ Missed anybody before. My darling, I love you so and I long to see your face again. Why do you hide from _

_ The world? Where have you been off to? What have you been doing? I heard that you just returned from  _

_ New orleans, I know you’d always wanted to go. What was it like? Everything you ever hoped?  _

_ I must turn to you for help, for I am in dire need of your advice, since you always are the best to  _

_ Advise me. See, it seems I’ve fallen into a problem with my courting between Scott McCall and Isaac Lahey. _

_ It seems that I am utterly in love with Scott McCall but I don’t know if I am ready to live that far away. But  _

_ Also, perhaps i’m afraid of my own heart. I can’t seem to piece together the fear or the hesitance but I _

_ Also love so dearly mister Isaac Lahey. Maybe i just am faint on the notion of love. _

_ Tell me dear brother, have you found a lover? A girl? A man even?  _

_ Please return to me soon, with all my greatest love and care _

_ Allison Argent _

  
  
  
  


_ 9 PM  _

_ October 15  _

_ My dearest darling Allison,  _

_ I’ve been well, although I have been better. I’m awfully sorry for leaving you hanging though the strangest thing happened today. I hope you’ll understand my estranged deamoner about the affair but, Lydia Martin had paid me a visit to the house and well, I had never had such a strange and awful encounter- well maybe it wasn’t awful, but it defninetely was strange. She just kind of waltzed in and started talking to me- now that I think about it I’m not sure if it had really happened or not. Maybe I was dreaming it and if I was, why was I dreaming of her?  _

_ It’s a daring question but it’s never the matter. New Orleans was something else, it’s like a totally different world, you would never believe. Remind me one day to take you there- you would love it.  _

_ As for your love situation, I don’t know. The best thing to do is follow your heart. I know you, and I know you’ll make the right decision- it’s your future and I have no say in who you marry. It’s your decision to make. Simply yours and nobody elses.  _

_ With tender love and care, _

_ M. Stilinski _

Allison puts down the letter and holds it to her heart as she breathes out a sigh of relief as she sinks into the plush bed covers, she had never felt so relieved in her heart and it rushes over her like water in a bath after not having not bathed for days. She relaxes against the bed when her lady’s maid enters and she sits up and watches the young woman stop before her. 

“Isaac Lahey is waiting outside to speak to you.” 

Allison nods urgently, pulls a silk robe over her body, letting it cascade down as she rushes down the steps with fast steps, slips on silk flats before moving out to the dry, warm air outside to find Isaac standing there, hunched over with his back to the door, his jacket uncomfortably shifting over broad shoulders and her heart races as she watches him. 

“My god! Isaac, are you okay?” She asks, moving to turn her and sees the cuts along his face and her heart trembles with a quaking fear she isn’t sure she’s ever felt before, the entirety of the world seems to stop as she looks at him, his clothes bloodied. “What on earth happened? Lord we have to call Stiles!” She instantly breathes and Isaac shakes his head briefly before wincing. 

“It’s… complicated but it’s nothing, I just need a place to stay- I can’t stay with my father tonight. He’s having a bout and-” 

“You have to leave, you have to- you have to get Stiles! Something has to be done about this, Isaac look at you!” Allison cries out,  before turning to the door and ringing one of the bells and calling for a slave, a young man comes out and helps her bring Isaac inside, as he protests and tries to escape their hold but is overcome with pain at certain movement of his shoulder. He near about collapes as he goes pale in face and gasps audibly, his lungs holding in air. Allison is immediately concerned. “Go get the doctor- Go!” she demands, yelling. “DADDY!” she yells, sprinting up the stairs from the servants quarters. “DADDY COME QUICK!” She yells, her father and mother quickly coming out of the drawing room to see Allison trembling. “It’s Isaac he’s hurt.” 

 

Natalie wanders into Lydia’s room and sits down beside her, pushing the hair out of her face and Lydia looks up from her book, Natalie sighing. “It’s not fit for young girls to read.”

“A lot of things are not fit for girls but alas we’re just as capable as men, Lucretia Mott says so and Cady Stanton. It’s our natural duty to be up to par and capable, women are very capable.” Lydia nods in affirmation and her mother shoots her a look, she shuts the book, shying away a bit.

“So be capable in attraction- you need a husband.”

“Maybe I don’t want one.”

“I’ve set you up with one and you have no choice but to win his affections. This is happening-”

“You arranged a marriage for me?” Lydia cries out, her heart sinking rapidly in panic and she’s suddenly angry again, how could her mother do this to her? Throw all her prospects away, leave her in a ditch with a man who probably cares nothing for her. 

“Oh quit crying, I think you’ll like him. Just… stop doing all that. You need to get out more, you need to attend parties more, you need to stop reading so much and join a church society like the other rich girls around here. Be like them, they don’t read.”

“I will not! I’m not going to change myself to uphold your prospects. I should let you know that Stiles himself claims there’s more than one lawsuit to our name!”

“Stiles? Where on earth did you see him?” 

Lydia stutters and bites her lip. “I saw him around, he had been going to town to his office and we bumped into each other, he invited me in for tea.”

“What did you do?”

“We had tea and talked.”

Her mothers eyes are narrowed and Lydia felt desperate. “It was nothing mother, really!”

“That’s what you said about Jackson-”

“You have no proof he did anything to me!” Lydia cries. 

“We’re here because of you, if you ruin our chances, Lydia Martin-”

“Mama please! Nothing happened, not between me and Stiles or me and Jackson!” 

“I’ll believe it when I see it, I know you have your affairs but not here, Lydia.  _ Not  _ when we already have these fools on our shoulders-”

“They’re people! They’re not fools! You’re a fool for thinking you can take what they rightfully own, there’s property you stole and I’ve told no one of it but I am forced to lay in your shadow, being saw as the daughter of the city man who marched right up to a poor man’s house and went ‘this is mine!’ so shame on you for thinking my reputation lies in my sex when you’ve all but already tarnished it.” 

Natalie is furiously silent and she stands, snatching the book from her. “This is to be discussed with your father and your punishment is to go as follows.” 

Lydia is silent as she watches her mother leave, she pulls together the tears in her eyes before sneaking out of the house from the balcony. She walks all the way to the argent household.

 

The door opens and Allison is tending to a tired isaac, her father by her side. “What happened Isaac,” he whispers again and Isaac shakes his head. 

“I don’t know… he just lashed out on me.” It was like a mantra.  _ He just lashed out on me.  _ “There was glass,” he finally admits. “No knives but Glass. He threw glass, or I think he threw it. He just got angry is all- maybe he was drunk. I don’t remember.”

Lydia clears her throat and the three look at her, she’s shivering and Allison ushers her in. “And bless your heart, what brings you here?”

“My mother hates me.” 

“Well the foreign and the north really are cruel to their children,” Chris muses before reaching a hand out to Lydia. “What did they do to ya?” 

“I was reading and she waltz in and starts yelling at me, thinks I slept with Stiles because I talked to him in the village- she said she’s going to talk to my father, but that won’t go over well.” 

“Allison, get her in something warm and get her to a bed, I’ll take care of Isaac.” 

“Yes papa,” Allison mumbles, kissing Isaac’s head before tugging Lydia off and once alone, Lydia collapses on a chair in the changing room and falls apart. 

“Oh allison it’s horrible! She’s absolutely dreadful! She has this all planned out! Wants to marry me to somebody and didn’t even tell me then talks about how I’m a disgrace! She wants to ruin me!” 

“Lydia no don’t cry,” Allison encourages and rubs a hand over her back soothingly, trying to take hold of the situation. “Oh please my dear, don’t cry.” Allison doesn’t know what to do, it’s so much and her heart is squeezing against it’s binds, she’s helpless in the situation of her friends, which both are familial centric and she doesn’t know how people can be so cruel. She’s hopeless, she’s helpless, she’s being tugged at from all strands and she finds her heart in dire need for Scott’s gentle voice, his constant encouragement- she has a feeling she’d know how to pull through better if he was here but certainly she can manage without him. 


	9. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles attends a party, Lydia is grounded, Stiles finds out, Allison and Stiles are plotting things. Meeting Scott McCall!!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so some of this might be jumbled because my computer spazzed out but I didn't see anything weird when I looked over it- but lmk if you see something weird. this chapter was REALLY fun to write because soon I get to delve into a whole different side of the Stallison partnership- also STYDIA DEVELOPMENT!!

 

Stiles and Claudia were the only ones that came- he was dressed nice enough in a black suit and his mother was in a simple purple dress with her done up beautifully, the two sashay in and Stiles is easily moved for at the table they’re at, sitting beside Chase and nudging Allison slightly and she giggles, smiling happily at her best friend, dressed in her finest turqouise silk gown with the beads on it (the new one she showed him a few days ago) and her hair is up in an intricate hairdo, she looks beautiful, he notes, simple but so beautiful.

“How’d your nana come along? She get down her just fine?” Allison asks thoughtfully, placing her hand on his arm. 

“Quite well! She’s just all good and restin up is all, stayed home tonight but we’ll be takin visitors soon! Though I’m leavin on Monday to catch the upcoming Lincoln and Douglas debate in district 4 of Illinois,” Stiles informs and everyone ooo’s, the whole table seeming to gravitate in towards him, leaning slightly forward as if desperate to hear what the previously absent young man has to say, drink every word that came from him as if they were being given eternal life by the water he gave them.  Stiles shrugs and leans on the arm of the chair closest to Allison, he even smiles slightly and everybody is so fascinated, willing to hear more, know more, see more. Where has he been, what’s he been doing? He offers no more information than what’s he previously given, sitting silent in the ways of the table. The talking is left to them now.

“So you’ve been up to date with all the politics?” Eaker asks and Stiles nods earnestly. 

“Course I have been- See I just been travelin’ around a lot that’s all. I’ve been goin places, seenin’ things and gettin new business for the plantation.” 

“Did you get a sniffin of any of them Underground houses?” Matt Daeher asks- unlike many of the townspeople, he was rich and racist, he wouldn’t know how to treat a person if T’any hit him over the head. He was a blonde haired boy with crazy blue eyes, there was something about the way he smiled that yelled ‘dangerous’ and Stiles always figured him to be a hitch off the devils mountain post, a real, honest to god, satanist that would spew black magic at all that opposes him- Stiles had always done his best to appease him in fear of getting struck (he recalls once that Daeher had gotten into a fight with this one young lad and three days later he was dead of pneumonia) and of course, Daeher has taken quite the liking to him, even considered them friends- though he lingered to frequently about Allison and her estate, which made Stiles weary. He hopes she gets in no trouble. 

“No sir I wasn’t lookin on no paths, I was real busy you see and I even took the train,” Stiles admits on account of his adventures;  though he might have bumped into a free Black man or two, he didn’t see it any good to rat anybody out- especially to Matt, who would be looking to torture any poor man he could get his hands on.“I did see a funeral in New Orleans though. And when I went up to New York I saw some interesting new boats on the Albany harbor.” 

“Probably for a nigger,” Matt spews and is disregarded, especially by Stiles who says he’s crossing a line, Matt becomes small in his chair, looking away in embarrassment for stepping out of line with his friends- Stiles was only being innocent. 

“Really?” Karen cooes flirtatiously, leaning over the table a bit, her breasts seizing the hem of her dress just slightly and resists the urge to roll his eyes- she was all lure and no interest, he couldn’t help to think that she wasn’t even that pretty (unlike Lydia) (this thought is fleeting and really, he dismisses it as simple appreciation for Lydia’s beauty, nothing else because she was a northerner and there was no way, in the name of the good lord, that he saw anything of her besides a freak of nature who just happened to be beautiful). Sure she had her lure, but her grand gestures of body were rather unappealing to him and he found that he didn’t like her much, and now that he recalls, they’d never truly been of good friends- just passerby’s and potentially future love interests but something became of her that he found untasteful and he became something that every girl seemed to love- though he wasn’t sure if it was love for him or love for the money his name carried- he suspected the latter. Though Karen bats her big blue eyes at him like he’s something special and he puts his charm on for her, winking at her. The thought is as fleeting as it presented and Stiles focuses on Karen, smiling with his faux charm and winking at her. “Really. Would I ever lie to any of you?” He might, but that’s a different story. 

“I don’t know… would you? How do we know you’re not lying?”

“Why ask anybody you know from those places! They saw me!” Stiles assures and they all laugh, and he leans back in his chair, his heart feeling open again in a way that it hadn’t it what feels like infinity ago, he doesn’t remember the last time he felt so comfortable in his own skin, with the people he had known his whole life and loved (to an extent) . It was good to be back, it was good to be with his friends, good to laugh- really laugh- he doesn’t even hesitate to pluck a drink from the tray, a little bubbly wouldn’t hurt him at all, would it? Oh no, of course not. So he sips carefully at his drink and flirts and preens and even dances with a few girls. His mother is happy to see him having a good time, she knows she might take his happiness away again if she tells him but she knows time is running out for them. 

She approaches Mrs. Martin and sits with her, the woman smiles. “I already know your question. The answer is yes our agreement is still on, I’m just punishing her for lashing out like a child, giving her a taste of good medicine before allowing her to handle herself again.”

“And that’s all? They’re arrangement is safe?”

“The safest. The other men his age are absolute animals, I don’t trust them with my girl. You’re boy will do best.”

“I assure it.” 

 

And Lydia, Lydia is forced to watch from afar, sit with the societal girls and unallowed to speak to Allison for her scene a few days prior, she’s stuck and her mother has a watchful eye on her, Stiles notices the correlation and sees that Allison hasn’t spoken to her all night- he wonders if perhaps they got into a fight. “Why is Lydia sitting with those girls?” Stiles asks her, finally giving in to the cult of curiousity building in his head, he wants answers, those girls are pompous and mean and think they’re the pimps of fashion or something, he would rather be caught dead than off with one of those girls. 

“Her mother snapped at her for reading books and all the lot- then thought she was having affairs with me, and then she came over to me crying and her mother grounded her- she’s only allowed to talk to those girls and the boys involved with them.”

“Oh?” Stiles asks before he gives her a look and they both smirk. “Think we can send a little one to do some dirty work?” He whispers and she nods slowly, the two falling into a dance position as they glance around and his eyes fall on Elizabeth, Allison’s sister and they both sway, moving with the waltz of the music. “Elizabeth is over there.”

“We should tell her to go sit with her friend there, get all the dirt.”

“Do it,” he affirms and Allison breaks it off and rushes over to her sister who moves to sit with them, Karen Rothman had now joined the group and they’re all talking, a wild raging of gossip and chat about their own lives. Elizabeth Argent casually places herself next to Bethany Ruefield and leans against her chair, smiling charmingly as she participated in girls talk. They begin talking about Odette (which would not boad over well with Stiles) and she clings to every word but lets up nothing. She overhears Karen whispering about losing her virginity to an  _ older  _ man from one of the farms, having helped him cheat his wife in the back of a club one night, the queen B of the group is no other than Malia Tate who is poised in her seat, though she was a reckloose of a girl and everybody knew it. She listened and trashed and talked down everybody she knew but only in her circle- as if to say these were ‘church’ girls. Malia speaks up and starts talking about recently how she’d been seeing Theo Raeken, though she’s been having a heightened interest in Stiles from his new found sense of mystery.

“He’s always been too open of a book but I like this air of darkness he’s taken- boy it looks reaaal good on him. I’d take his sugar any day of the weak,” she admits freely and they all giggle innocently behind their fans, Elizabeth catching Lydia’s eyes and she looks absolutely pained, a plea for help and she shifts to go sit beside her, Lydia sighs and adjusts herself. 

“Hi Eliza,” she whispers and Eliza smiles softly.

“Hello there,” she cooes back, smiling mischeviously. “Well I suppose you love being a church girl.”

“I absolutely adore it,” she lies and smiles charmingly, they all grin. 

“We loooove having you,” Malia insists and Lydia smiles back at her, Elizabeth pats her shoulder before parting and going to her sister, she whispers everything to her and Allison nodded. It was time to take these girls down and away from Lydia, it was what had to be done. Stiles is otherwise with a friend, talking and laughing away, his mother stands and walks over to him.

“Love we oughta go before it gets too late, you know how your nana feels about us being out too late-” She insists softly, gently to Stiles and Stiles nods. 

“Course mama- we’ll talk later, yeah?” He assures the other young man before going off with his mother, the two bidding the room goodbye, he stops by the church girls table and pays specific attention to Lydia. 

“It was good to see you girls, I’d hope to meet all of your acquaintances soon,” he says before pausing beside Lydia. “Your mother wouldn’t mind if you came to a tea at my house would you?” He offers and Malia jumps the gun. 

“Surely you don’t mean to invite just her-”

“Oh I do miss… tate is it?”

“Indeed it is,” she cooes with her southern accent and he nods slowly.

“Well- Actually I did plan on inviting you but see I had hoped we could talk in private,” he flirts openly and smiles devilishly and she laughs, melting in her heels, he nods his head before bidding away, winking at Lydia and Lydia is stunned, sat there watching him go- she  **knew** he liked her from the start and finds he’s a horrible liar- but then she thinks for a moment, maybe it’s not for him, it’s for Allison but then she smiles in relief because for once, she feels like Stiles isn’t fighting her, he’s protecting her and for a moment her heart stutters, it melts and it’s mended from their previous encounter- she feels as if she is in love, but she knows better than to be so niave for a boy with a beautiful face. Last time that happened, her heart got shattered and all she had of her reputation was taken from her- though still she stands strong everyday and no man is allowed to take that from her- never. 

  
  
  


Claudia climbs into the carriage and Stiles isn’t far behind her, he climbs in and settles on the opposite side of the green velvet seats of the carriage- which is relievingly warm inside and she wonders if they’ve drawn the furnace underneath already, whatever the case, she’s happy. 

“I saw you talking to Lydia,” his mother inquires and Stiles shrugs, faintly gesturing with a whim of his hand. 

“I was just inviting her to tea, you know… for Allison.” 

“Right… Uhm, I don’t know what happened between her and her mother but prior to it we had… made an agreement-”

“An agreement?” Stiles asks and suddenly his stomach is flipping circles, he knows what she means and panic strikes his eyes- Claudia knows that he understands just from the look on his face, he saw it coming, he knows now.

“Give it a chance,” Claudia instantly pleads and he doesn’t want to make his mother unhappy, his darling beautiful mother, his back straightens and he adjusts the fabric on his jacket, smoothing down soft velvet covering his arms from the chill of a satin blue evening. “She’s favorable and I-”

“I understand mommy,” Stiles cuts her off, nodding almost solemnly. “I get it, it’s for the best what with this sectionalism going on- the war that is issued to be coming… You’re protecting me, it’s what you do and I accept. Does she know? You should talk to Miss Martin or perhaps I should- to solidify the partnership?”

“You’re going that easy?” 

“I just want ya ta be happy and if this means increasing our prospects, I accept. I wasn’t fallin in love anytime soon anyways, momma.” 

“Thank you.” 

Stiles nods and leans back against the chair looking out the window of the carriage where he sees the moon lifted high in the night sky and for a moment he wonders what it’s like to live on the moon, to be far from this earth, to be lonely in solitude with a few predestined creatures. He wonders, for a moment, only a moment, if this is the end of his time as a child or whatever time of it is left. He sits back and he thinks about Lydia Martin, for once he tries to find the good in her that goes beyond her voluptuous breasts and perfectly curled hair- he thinks she is grounded in her beliefs, he knows that from their fights, she’s beautiful, she’s… well, he doesn’t know her so well and Stiles sighs audibly figuring that maybe this would be harder than it was intended to be, harder than it was supposed to be. Stiles doesn’t understand the ways of the world nor does he understand why things happen but what must be done must be done and he accepts- wholeheartedly and true, he accepts. 

 

The train is drawing nearer and nearing, Scott inhales softly- the scenery passing him by and the grass looks like green oceans, he smiles- he is closer and closer to the love of his life, Allison Argent, he can already feel her hair against his finger tips as he hugs her perfectly scented body close. Scott, recalls this area and he missed it, he wonders if since his last visit Stiles will be available and he wonders further if maybe Isaac will be around- and though he doesn’t like what Allison has with Isaac, he accepts and recieves the beautiful young man as a friend. After all, Allison was no prize to be one. 

_ Lovely Scott McCall, _

_ Your name sounds like bells in my ears _ _   
_ _ I long to see you again shortly after this last encounter _ _   
_ _ I long to see you _ _   
_ _ Long to hear you _ _   
_ _ Long to be with you _ _   
_ _ With love,  _ _   
_ __ Allison Argent

 

Won’t she be surprised? Oh she would be and he already anticipates the beaming smile of utter joy that he knows will erupt on her face and now that he has her, he wants nothing more than to keep her, to convince that her decision lies with him but all at once, he knows he has convincing competition and she sees him so often, but Isaac Lahey is present everyday. This strikes fear in his heart but slowly he breathes in before breathing out- she gave him something she would never give to anybody else and he would never let that go, that her love was wholy handed to him and that her body was his to have- that was something that he could never let go, something he would always remember- the sweet scent of peaches just at the apex of her thighs, the lady like rose at the valley between her breasts and bathing softly at the nape of her neck, he would never forget her soft gasps of delight, the look in her eyes that were only for him- he Scott McCall, the love of Allison Argents life. 

He hates that he thinks of her so much, that he recalls this- perhaps to her it meant nothing at all but Stiles had proclaimed that Allison was a modest girl that would never give herself up, not for a man, she had too much pride to her name and brandished a gun like an accessory- men were not her high top priority, even if she did love to flirt. Scott knew that what she gave was personal and what he returned was all the same. 


	10. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> things happen in locations at times with people who are happy or not happy, it all depends on who, what, when, where, and why. Or in other terms- Scott and Allison are reunited, Stiles talks to Mister Martin, Stiles talks to Lydia, Lydia and her parents fight, Stiles and Odette have a chat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay okay so the time period, like in the victorian time period pale skin and a plump body were very valued in women's beauty, they took a more humble approach and valued clear skin with no make up- so to red their cheeks instead of putting on a rouge, they would pinch them. Though because this is post Egalitarian era, people aren't so obsessed with the idea of seeing veins from pale skin, some people still found it a fond attribute to have from being so white you were "translucent" essentially- okay you'll see when you get there, just keep this in mind, End bye Falicia's ~AME

“The statement remains Mister Martin, you’ve taken this land unlawfully and you’re due to return it- there is no passage of right-”

“It’s mine!” 

“Show me your warrant or I’ll be forced to seize a search on the household. Do you not have one? You showed that man something, I want to see it.” 

The man falters before turning to leave the room to get his warrant, Stiles is standing there in a sharp black suit with brazen buttons, his features are more defined, he looks more professional, cleaned up and sharpened to play his role and Lydia watches from the doorway from dining room, he catches her eye and bites his lip- so this wasn’t supposed to go this way but people were claiming left and right he was ready to seize more land, so of course he puts on his best and as if delivering the news of a dead man he knocks on the door and demands a word and that in the name of the law, he is not allowed to be denied it. 

He glances around the quaint area, his ears picking up on the creaking of the steps and the man returns with a warrant, handing him a clean white sheet with jumbled, typed ink words. Stiles raises an eyebrow and inspects it. “Who is this Mister Riley man? I’ve never heard of him before.” 

“He’s at the office in the county outside of here-” Martin starts and Stiles raises his hand. 

“Well I s’pose you’ll give me the address and I’ll do my work, I should talk to him-”

“There’s no need! See, he signed it, right there.”

Stiles rolled his eyes. “I have no evidence this is  _ his  _ signature, or if it is a copy of his signature. See it’s my job to look into the matter as deeply as possible before I put you before a court because see my defense is on the stand here and  _ you  _ are not my defense but certainly, if you were a good man you’ll fess up before I have to do something I don’t want to. See I only bring honesty in court, but don’t think I won’t do what I have to to prove my case, it’s what I do, what I have to do but I want no riff in our ties.”

“Then if you want no riff you’d do no investigation.”

“If you were honest you’d let me by with no further inquisition but your trembling like a sinner in church- we both know it’s phony,” Stiles asserts and his tone was a perfectly calm, cold, carefully worded and slang free accusation- he was at work now and Lydia noticed that Stiles at work was not Stiles in daylight- he was calculating, his eyes were darting all over her father's face, catching and processing every expression; nothing was getting past him and Stiles would defend his people before he was to defend them. 

“Do what you must,” Francis proceeds, watching him for a moment. “You know about the arrangements then?” He finally asks.

“Of course I do,” Stiles states firmly, filing away the warrant in his briefcase. “That’s a conversation for another day though. Right now, this is a business call- you wronged these people and we’re an honest people, we won’t have nobody waltzin’ in here and destroying our good land,” he whispers coldly and Francis nods, backing off a bit, as if intimidated by the slightly taller lad who seems dead cold serious- Lydia standing in the doorway wonders what arrangement they’re talking about and as stiles leaves, she rounds off to meet him in the front from the back, stopping him before he mounts his horse and Stiles looks down at her, her hand having grabbed his arm, he looks perplexed, confused. “Lydia, how do you do?”

“What were you talking about with my father- about the arrangement?” She demands, her red hair falling carelessly about her shoulders, some sticking up static in air as she stood there, panting almost from running around the house- her green eyes are sharp and curious, wide as a child’s with curiousity and Stiles tilts his head. 

“They haven’t told you?”

“Told me what?”

“They’ve arranged for us to marry,” Stiles informs and Lydia freezes, staring up at him, the hand she’d lay on his arm starting to feel heavy and a bit clammy, of course she doesn’t know what to do or say- she turns to humor to cover her shock and will to cry (perhaps more of relief than disdane) and Stiles is watching her, with his lawyer eyes and she meets them and pulls away from him slightly.

“Well- that’s no way to propose, I didn’t think you liked me that much.”

He scoffs but the slightest tint of a smile on his lips and she feels relief wash over her. “It wasn’t my decision but if it helps any, my mom did all the proposing and that’s more charming then I can ever be.” Lydia can’t help but think the words ‘ _ mama’s boy’  _ when he says that and smiles at the idea- that he loves his mother so graciously and so kindly. 

“Well sure it helps some, I think you’re mother is much more beautiful than you are,” she tells him and he laughs, shaking his head. 

“Sure she is,” Stiles confirms, his jet black horse nosing between them curiously and he laughs gleefully in a way she’s never seen before- the way his previously sharper features softened and the contour of his cheeks weren’t so prominent as he smiles at the horse, kissing the side of his head. “Peace lightening, we’re going soon- I know you want to go home, just give me a moment,” Stiles assures and the horse snuffs, resting between them. 

“What about all that flirting?” Lydia further investigates, tilting her head. “How long have you known?”

“I found out after the party, but really it’s my job to flirt- we’re not public yet and we can’t let on yet. Of course, our engagement isn’t official until the party- where I’d probably end up needing to do a public proposal because that’s the way things are.”

“You’re so strange.”

“I’m just telling you the truth.”

“So why did you invite me to the tea?”

“For Allison of course.” 

“Of course, not because you had the hopes of seeing me again?”

“Why would I  _ want  _ to see you again?”

“Because I’m charming and beautiful,” she teases and he tilts his head to the side like a confused puppy. “Or maybe my good wits just got to you.”

“Or maybe I pity Allison with all my heart and decided she needed somebody to talk to- and my good lord she loves you, why I couldn’t say, you’re basically a witch, but she loves you so therefore I invited you for the sake of my darling Allison.”

“Good to know this wasn’t for you in any shape or form- considering I am your future wife apparently.”

“I’ll see you enough when we’re married, don’t you think?”

“One day you’ll long you saw more of me.”

“Sure and one day you’ll loathe me to the ends of earth.” 

“How lovely, I’m anticipating it- I hate thinking you’re just very beautiful so much of my time.”

“You think I’m beautiful? Strange girl.”

“It’s true! Besides, serious is a good look on you.”

“I assume you expect a compliment in return.”

“Do you not think I’m beautiful?”

“And what if I don’t?” 

“It simply isn’t done, Stilinski. I  _ am  _ beautiful.” 

“Conceited girl.”

“The love of your life.”

“In your dreams, Martin.” 

 

Scott McCall is liked in the town, in fact he’s rather well known by the people of the town from his frequent visits as of the past year. The church clock tower is looming in the distance and as he walks through the town, he tries to find a carriagemen or somebody to take him to the Argent household- or even a horse to rent out for a while (which was hard to come by in such a small town, not many people liked to let up their horses) and as he paces through the town, he notices a new bakery had opened since his last visit and the orchid trees were blooming, the pink blossoms budded on the branches, the fountain in the center of the town was spouting fresh blue water- the whole thing almost like a dream, as he walks through, hazed and lost in thought. 

He stops by a stable near the back of town and walks on inside to find the owner, who pops up from his office. “McCall! Need a horse again?”

“If it’s not too much trouble, I’ll have em returned by the morning.”

“Sure thing, it ain’t no problem. Here to see the girl?”

A sheepish smile grows on his face and he shrugs, adjusting the sleeves of his jacket- more Spaniard style than southern simplistic, decorated with threaded patterns on the suit and the man nods, offering him a horse and stiles pays him the ten dollars due per day of rental. Scott thanks him before going off and it isn’t another hour that he’s passing the Stilinski estate then is altogether passed it, behind him are the tobacco fields, the ringing of hymns sung as the men and women work through their jobs all behind him as he nears the Argent household (and god he hopes she’s home and not somewhere else), rounding off in the front, a slave standing outside greets him, takes the horse and he’s greeted inside. 

“Allison is all freed up, lucky you,” one assures him and Scott grins.

“Don’t tell her I’m here, take me to a free drawing room, I’d want to be alone a second with her.”

“Of course, sir,” he assures and Scott is taken to an empty drawing room- grand with beige walls and white trimming, blood orange curtains tied to the side, gold trimmed doors with elegant toppers as decor, a large mirror on one wall, portraits and paintings on another. All the wood furniture was a dark mahogany, and the couches were plush and velvet and so was just about every other cushioned chair or arm chair in the room. It was elaborate, well done and potentially Scott’s favorite room in the house.  

 

Allison is being lead down the hallway as she is brought to the West hall drawing room, unsure of who this guest was and what they were doing here- she strides into the room with her nose high, a feather hanging from the tight bun she’d put her hair up into, she looks over across the room and there he is, not paying much attention, gazing outside the window, light fallen perfectly on gorgeous tan skin and her races and she wants to leap outside of her skin, weep in joy at the sight of him, even if he is so calm and so peaceful- in way that she doesn’t even want to disturb him- and her voice speaks up. “Scott?” it comes out feebly and he turns to face her, almost startled by the voice of the girl, this beautiful, princess of a girl.

“Allison, my dearest darling, it’s so good to see you,” Scott tells her and she is so overcome with this joy that she bounds forward in a few short strides and is in his arms, engulfed entirely with the scent of his mother's mexican cooking and something sweet from the train, with a hint of musky cologne. She grasps at the clothes on his back, hugging him with the grip of a vice- she refuses to release him in any near future but Scott resents and pulls her away, a hand moving to cup the fair skin of her face, lay softly on her cheek, his thumb caressing the skin of her flushed cheeks.

“You’re a horrible man and here I was thinking another one that I loved wasn’t talking to me,” she tells him faintly, her voice feeble and small and her smile is watery. “But yet here you are.”

“Here I am, here I will stay- here I always will be, yours just for you,” he whispers and she nods, her hand wrapped around his wrist as she tilts her head to kiss the edge of his hand, soft lips to soft skin and she smiles because she’s elated that he’s there with her and that they’re together. He tilts her head and kisses her softly, her whole body melting at the touch he provides, and she swore she went weak at the knees- but perhaps she’s just foolish and isn’t weak at all but  _ he  _ makes her weak in a way that Isaac Lahey never could, for Isaac Lahey only built her up- made her look strong but Scott McCall drew out the best and the worst in her, with his lips on hers, she is weak but he is weaker. 

  
  


Lydia walks inside with her head held high, a calmly angered expression painting her features and although her heart is beating rapidly in her chest, she doesn’t want her parents to know. She steps into the drawing room where they’re standing and her mother turns in her gown to step towards Lydia but she turns from her. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” 

“Well we meant to-”

“But you didn’t! I should not have found out by Stiles that he was going to be arranged to marry me, that simply isn’t how the world works. You should have told me.”

“You were talking for a long time,” her mother tries to switch gears and Lydia’s jaw clenches and she wants to  _ scream,  _ why was she always the victim in this game of pawns? Why was she wrong for talking to somebody- especially somebody she was marrying? Why was she wrong for reading books? Why was she wrong for wanting to remain thin unlike the fashion of being plump like a vampire full of blood? Why was it always her that her mother blamed and pointed at in the wrong?

“Yeah talking about the marriage you failed to inform me about! What did you think I was doing? Getting royally  _ fucked  _ on our front lawn? Just like how you thought he simply handed it to me when I was talking to him in a public place?” She had said the lie so much, she believed it, the memory had practically altered in her head to her lie of seeing Stiles in the town on his way out from work. 

“Lydia Martin-” 

“Or is the books I read? Do you think I was bewitching him with my knowledge of fairtyale girls living in Versailles or something like that? You think I was telling him all my dirty secrets and the gave him a key to my door at night so he can sneak in and kiss me until I’ve fainted? Is that it? Because you’re horribly and utterly wrong! He doesn’t like us very much if you haven’t noticed, I’ve only just started to be his acquaintances, not even a friend! But  **heavens!** If we were outside- where a majority of the public could see us, coming on up the path, he must have had himself up my skirts while you weren’t looking- in the front yard, for everyone to see. Branded me right on the neck and all! Isn’t that so? That’s just it? I can’t talk to my friends and now you’ve suddenly made it a crime to my fiance! The exact reason you’ve cut me off in the first place! How could you? How could you demean  _ my  _ name for your benefit? I’ll sooner pride being the wife of a Stilinski than I ever will be your daughter.” She turns on her heels and marches out, tears running down her face and Natalie is left standing there stunned, her heart torn to pieces as she watches her daughter leave and Francis spits at her. 

“Look what you’ve done! You had to go and turn it on her like that? I thought you said you told her!” 

“I mentioned it!”

“You said you told her!”

“I tried but she-”

“Probably did nothing wrong! You just like to play the innocent don’t you? Now it’s all going to go to waste if we can’t convice her-”

“This is your fault too!” 

“You’re a selfish bitch and you know it! I had nothing to do with this!”

“You had everything to do with this!”

“How? What the hell did I do?”

Lydia slams her bedroom door shut and slides down the heavy, white wooden door and covers her ears with her hands as she quietly begins to sob, she can’t take it- this constant cycle. It was all her fault that they were fighting, she sobs a broken sob and it’s like she can hear the hymn of heartbreak strumming through the air. The world was out to get her and that was just the truth- the world had it’s back turned to her, everything was evil, wicked and cruel. Everything except Stiles Stilinski with the warm eyes that seemed just as scared but just as certain as her own- she wonders if his parents fight like hers too. She wonders who died that took such a toll on his life. Lydia Martin wonders, if in all the things of the world, Stiles Stilinski is happy right now, on his way home, strolling the gravel path or even thinking about her, thinking about their talk, if he’s sitting by azalea bushes or the lemon tree with his mother or his blonde haired sister and talking- telling them about how he talked to Lydia Martin and how she told him they’d fall in love and how that was in itself such a ridiculous notion. Lydia Martin sobs her pretty shrill of a sob and the only thing calming the storm is getting drunk on whiskey eyes. She falls asleep thinking about him.

 

Ironically enough, Stiles is sat by the lemon tree with Odette, braiding her hair as they watch Jack and Caden run around playing knights. He takes the strands of long, silky, blonde hair and twirls them in together to make a braid in her hair. “You know, I was looking at her and really she’s rather thin,” Stiles informs his sister who had a nice round face with plump, red cheeks. She laughs. 

“Well she’s a really marie isn’t she?”

“Yeah I s’pose so. I don’t know, she has good enough curves so I don’t mind much but like… I don’t know, she has very slim cheeks.”

“I suppose but she is very pale. The veins in her arms glitter through her skin,” Odette admires and Stiles nods. 

“I suppose so. But only in her arms- perhaps she paints them on.”

“I don’t think she lacks that much pride, only- no pun intended, really- vain women do that.”

Stiles laughs at his sister and she beams up at him. “Besides, being thin is kind of nice,” she asserts. “I hate eating so much,” Odette continues. “It’s like being a porked up pig.”

“Men like tender women, I’m sure Liam will take a good liking to you if you’re perked up at the stomach and they’re not making you enormous or anything, just giving you a little more fat so you don’t look like an ill farmers daughter, that way they know we’re rich and have fed you well.”

“And I would think Natalie Martin would do that for Lydia but yet you’re complaining.”

“Well some women just can’t fatten up or maybe she’s not as rich as she proposes.”

“Do you think so?”

“Maybe.” Stiles tugs a strand a bit too hard and she smacks his hand. “Sorry, dear,” he mumbles and continues to tuck them into place. “Have you your ribbon?” 

Odettes nods and hands him her ribbon and stiles ties the end of the braid before tugging the strands to flush it out a bit, giving it a sharper edge. He smiles at his work and pushes it to the side for her and she giggles. 

“Silly brother, it looks messy like this!” 

“It’s different…”

“Do it again,” she instructs and he laughs, doing as she tells him to and combing it out with his fingers first. 

“As you wish, my dear Sister.”


	11. HISTORY LESSON

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A quick history lesson on the political, social and fashion views of the time- a history lesson by ME! Most of my facts are checked mainly because these are things I'm learning about in detail in my history class. IF you have any questions about any of this, especially if you are not American, please feel free to ask me and I'll be more than willing to answer them. I don't go into great detail about somethings but if you're interested, being the history buff that I am, go ahead and ask me in the comments- or if you're shy and would prefer to be anonymous, go on allineedcd.tumblr.com and ask me a question on anon

A reminder in the history of the time period- the year is 1856. It’s no wonder that Stiles and any other southerner has a wary eye out on the Martin’s, as the 1850’s was a decade built on a taught line of sectionalism for the united states. So why is there such a taught line? Well, contrary to popular belief, people weren’t really so much worried about the slaves as much as they were the land and money they were getting from the system. Slave states made more money due to free labor, the north had paid labor and therefore wasn’t making as much. But up until Missouri was annexed as a state all new southern state had a northern equal. Kentucky came in as a slave state, Maine enters as a free, Texas enters as a slave and California entered free. Missouri comes in in 1850 and there is no free state over the Missouri Compromise line to give back. So the issue becomes that there is no balance now that there is one too many slave states (literally- one). 

This leads into a battle between the two sections- one that’s always existed, arguably, that leads to a series of events. Things like the underground railroad have formed, where Slaves are (illegally) escaping and making a run for the free states. The underground railroad was a tricky thing really because anybody aiding these people, black white or other were often punished to the extent of being hanged for “stealing” property. When a slave ran, there was the whole “REWARD IF FOUND” kind of a thing with a picture poster and a cash reward to find the slave, some were even ripped out of their lives of freedom in the free states to be returned. It was a brutal business. This system continues up until 1860. 

In 1851, a book you might be familiar with _ , Uncle Tom’s Cabin  _ was published. This book is claimed to have started the Civil war. This book, if you’re not familiar with it, goes into depth about slavery, the slave environment, characters who are slaves that you sympathize with, how it affects families, how it affects the nation as a whole, what happens when it's over.. Lincoln, upon meeting Harriet Beecher Stowe, tells her “So you’re the little woman who started this great war.” Like it was a big deal guys. There were abolitionists who believed the book wasn’t radical enough, it didn’t call for an immediate end to slavery and therefore wasn’t doing its job. There were others who praised this book for making Slaves seem human. In reply to this she wrote an annotated version called  _ The Key to Uncle Tom’s Cabin _ and later in 1856 wrote a more direct and radical novel that called for an immediate end to slavery. Beecher Stowe continued to criticize those who still traded with the south.

In my story the year is 1858, three years prior to the outbreak of war. Stiles discusses going to see a debate that future president Abraham Lincoln takes part in with a man named Douglas. Lincoln and Douglas did a series of public debates for about 2 or 3 hours per debate where one opens for an hour, one rebuttals for an hour and half and the other closes. These were held in order to bring publicity to their fight for one of two seats provided for Illinois in the senate. The underground railroad is still happening, we’re growing dangerously closer to Lincoln’s election in 1860. 

Though outside of politics there was a lot going on, there were a lot of religious and spiritual movements. Religious movements, the idea of all people being equal happened early on, then continued to increase the right of the white man in this country. Then around 1850 we rose with the temperance movement, this idea that drinking was a sin in Christianity and that all people should limit or even completely cut off drinking outside church. This was formed by former federalists party members looking for another claim to fame though it was adopted by the Evangelical Church and was made a heavily promoted idea. Women’s roles also increased in the house- women became the center of the household, in charge of converting the family and instilling morals in the family- this lead to an idea called the “cult of domesticity” which is the idea that women belong in the house. Things like Abolitionism and Women’s rights were common, especially in Northern or quaker women. 

Immigration was also a big deal back then. Isaac makes a comment saying that being Irish was as  good as being black back then and he’s right. American and British citizens might have even  _ valued  _ a black man before they did an Irishmen, who were depicted as apes, heathens and often in American Cartoons are shown drinking and beating each other, and shouting- dressed in rugged clothes with the faces of apes. The Irish came into American, mainly due to the potato famine, with little to nothing. They were thin, poor and desperate for job. Many of them sent young girls to work in their factories (I believe Stiles remarks on this practice somewhere early on around chapter 1 but I don’t clearly recall) to help make money for their families, which were normally packed into not even apartments but basements or very tight, dirty spaces in the slums of the city. Many men worked on public work projects where they were paid in Whiskey daily, and about 5 cents a day, this earned Irishmen the drunk stereotype they’ve earned due to being given whiskey until they were drunk while doing their jobs. People thought they were so abhorrent and unruly drunkards that when the Erie Canal, mainly built by immigrant Irishmen, was finished, New York had a large celebration and all Irish were invited or allowed to participate.

The germans have it a bit better off. Due to Economic troubles, the German’s come down to the USA looking for a new home with any money and property they have. They mosey on over and normally buy or squat (the term for renting at the time) on land where they start farms and tight knit communities. Normally the German settled further west in Illinois and Wisconsin where they’re essentially more isolated and left to themselves.

The immigrants were a problem for the south, politically more than anything. Many Immigrants who came in were Republican, which was the current favored party in the north. (Things have since switched a bit. To give a low down quickly of the American party system first we were the Federalists and Anti-Federalists PRE the creation of the government, then the government forms and when Washington takes the house, we are Federalists and Democratic-Republicans. Then the federalist party was defeated a few times and essentially fell after Jefferson’s leave of the house. Then we had the Era of Good Feelings, which was a time of one party system. This was over after Monroe’s 4 years of service. Then we had the Jacksonians, which were the leading stand alone party for awhile but soon people opposed Andrew Jackson and became the Whig party, which was lead by one of the triumverates, Henry Clay. Jacksonians soon became the Democrats, which was vastly popular in the south at the time, and the Whig Party become the Republican party which was widely popular mainly in the north at the time. Most of the history goes WAYY back so I won’t bother explaining it, BUT if you really want to know more, feel free to comment asking and I’ll go into detail about the party systems). Since all these immigrants were Supporting the Republican Party, the Democrats were becoming desperate for appeal and tried to do anything they could to get people to vote Democrat over Republican, even tried to have the rights of the immigrants taken away (if I recall correctly) but thus did not succeed.

Ironically enough, a Democrat was in office in 1856 to 1860- this man was James Buchannan, who i would dare say is probably one of the lesser known presidents. He was a pretty typical southerner although, unlike Jackson, he didn’t leave his mark. Often in the story you’ll hear them comment about “Old Jackson” which was president Andrew Jackson and if you know  **anything** about Andrew Jackson you know that this guy was a crazy nut. Like seriously, he was crazy. Though he left an infamous mark on the way things were done- after the Corrupt Bargain of 1824, where Jackson had the voting outcome but lost to Adams anyways because of some works on the inside. This lead to insane campaigning in the 1828 election where his party was giving out pins, erecting hickory poles in the towns, posters and buttons and even handing out hickory brooms to support him. His following and electoral outcome was almost quadruple the last election. This leads him to be an infamous figure of the south, despite him being a crazy old bastard who thought he was “the father of the natives.” He also opposed John Jay, the supreme court marshall who said pushing the Natives off was Illegal and Hickory’s response was something along the lines of “So he has said it now let me see him bring down the hand of enforcement” then proceeds to move natives. Anyways, off topic, Buchannan was elected as a safe choice and recieved 3/4ths of the party votes. His efforts to keep peace between the two sides of the country left them alienated the south secedes pre civil war outbreak 

Also in regards to fashion of the time period, I would like to talk about how women’s fashion especially was in this time period. The south was a very simple way of dressing- especially in the rich. They believed in simplicity while the north believed in complexity, more intricate designed clothing, bigger hair, etc. Though both sides of the coin were rather simple when it came to make up- lip rouge or cheek rouge was considered scandalous and sinful. Pale skin was valued but unlike previous era’s it was not strived for to be painted on- and unlike the egalitarian era, women didn’t strive to be so pale that their veins were visible, to the point where they drew their veins on their skin to seem attractive- but perhaps lightly dusted with a white powder or even just natural. They spent a lot of time in the dark so most white women were pretty white. Also men were more interested in fuller women because it showed health and even that the woman was more wealthy, signaling she had enough money for food to eat consistently throughout the day- thin women were often poor and that was not favorable. As for mexican women like Melissa, you’ll be seeing slim dresses with colors and more intricate designs especially along the breasts and lace along the skirts. Many liked to wear cloaks while working or head shawls, sombro like hats were in fashion, tilted up to show embroidered designs on the inside flap of the hat. Men wore something similar with intricately embroidered suits that hugged the hips, shirts tucked in and pants that were a bit more poofy- although Raphael, having been a Spaniard before he had been an Empresario, probably wore more plain, Spanish clothing. (Spanish as in Spain. Spaniards were natively born Spanish men. Empresario were people who squatted in Texas prior to it becoming a state. They are now American Citizens though not American Born).  

And yup that’s the history low down for the first 9 chapters of the story! A new chapter is probably going to be up by tomorrow or maybe tonight if I get the chance but I have a math test to study for. Until next time friends~

AME


	12. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a visit to church and Lydia meets Nana

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm so tired and this chapter probably sucks ass *Strums guitar*  
> also PLEASE go to stydia-cast.tumblr.com and nominate this story for a reading, please!

Sunday morning had never felt so holy in Allison’s eyes, even if the sun was barely up, it was refreshing and new, even if her legs still ached if her body still stuck in ways it never had, she felt like a new person (every time he touched her she felt new) and here they were, curled together in bed and Allison could see herself waking up with him only a scarce inch away all the time- it’s all she ever wanted, to just be close to him. And Allison, gently rakes her fingers through the hair on his chest, leans her head against his heart before kissing just under his ear. “I have to go,” she whispers gently and the hint of a smile tugs his lips (she feels pity that he’d wake up to find her gone) then gets up and pulls on her robe and sneaks away back to her room. She collapses in her own bed, curls against the covers of the bed and melts, sleeping peacefully for the last few hours of morning before the 10 AM service, unseen and unheard by her family; Allison isn’t ashamed of the dreams that take her over of his hands in her hair, of his lips on her neck. She’s not ashamed, and she’s very in love. 

  
  


In which cases, the Stilinski’s were at the service this time, Stiles taking a seat a few pews down from his normal high seat by the door. He’s sat alone in the center, surrounded by a few of the elders and he seems vacant eyed, and absent even as he sits in the seat, just the way that his head tilts to inspect the stained glass window’s, eyes tracing over the pipe organ. Isaac watches this, the way his friend seems lonely in the heavenly stream of light, lonely between people much older than him- all of which disregarded the young man as if he wasn’t there at all, and Isaac excuses himself from his father’s presence before going to slide in next to Stiles, who doesn’t seem to notice him there. 

Isaac places a hand on his and watches Stiles look over at him and smiles slightly as he looks over, though somehow he still seems in thought. “Ya know, my father likes to tell me that our family built this whole place up- that my great great granddaddy was on the ship down here and helped found the Virginia Company. This very church was barely even here one hundred years ago and somehow- it’s all ours, all mine for the taking. In his eyes, we carry legacy- we carry a whole line and future line of people. And somehow none of this was here before- my great grandfather was just a Polish man who happened to end up here on a ship.” 

“And that bothers you?”

“It doesn’t bother me… It’s just strange to think about, that we started as just people with dreams in search of lives and now we’re here, in an old church with old pipe organs. Ain’t that weird? It’s like the old preserves the new, not the other way around. I used’ta think those pipe organs were played by the angels when I was younger, you know. Because i could never see the man there and mama always said the angels hung in the heads of churches and so I thought the music came from the angels and that every church would have angels that played music for them- but I never knew why it was sad music. I still don’t know why.”

“It’s not sad it’s just… mellow.”

“It’s sad. It sounds like somebody’s died, don’t ya hear it? It’s always… deep with sorrow.”

“Why are you thinking like this?”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know… like the world is ending.”

“It’s near bout over, but I give it another hundred years, hopefully by then I’d have found a holy salvation.”

“So the worlds ending?”

“Ending since it began. We’ve been dying since birth.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Neither do I, really.”

“What’s the matter?”

“I don’t really know. I woke up this morning and I just felt like there was never enough.” 

“Enough of what?”

“Enough of anything or maybe… too much of everything.”

“I think you’re thinking too much.”

“I think I just learned how to filter it verbally.”

“Oh?” 

“I think a lot, i’m always thinking I just know better than to speak out my fill.”

“How to be a gentleman.”

“Something like that.”

“I understand.”

“Do you Isaac? Because I really don’t.”

Isaac shrugs and glances at the door as it parts and there is Allison, clung to Scott’s arm as they giggle behind her hat, talk as if they’re the closest of friends and Isaac feels his chest grow tight. “I don’t understand some thing’s either.”

Stiles doesn’t have to look to know what he means, though he does give her a pointed glance and Allison sees but tries not to falter under the look, turning back to gaze deep into Scott’s black iris gaze. “She mean well, Isaac. She don’t mean no harm, just a flirt, that girl.”

“You speak as if you don’t even know her.”

“I love her to death but she’s gonna be her demise hanging around him like that- I pray she marries him before she gets in all sorts of bad trouble.”

“What do you mean?”

“That’s not my secret to tell, really.”

“I think I understand now,” Isaac mumbles and glances back at them and he’s certain he understands what’s been between them, and what’s gone on with her with him- the clear invation Scott has into her houshold (he wonders if her parents know) and he wonders if it means anything to still go after her or move on. “Perhaps I’ll find another girl.”

“There be plenty, ya just gotta look,” Stiles advises. “Elizabeth is nice.”

“Her sister?”

“No Elizabeth Darcy, silly man.”

“Oh of course- I thought you were after her.”

“It’s a complicated situation, my options have been… narrowed down by my parents-”

“Is that so?” A third party, elder man asks and Stiles faces him now and nods.

“Sure thing, with tension growing, they’re hoping to marry me before Virginia decides to secede. Poor Buchanan can’t seem to get his head together, but better than that Republican pig they considered. He was a real scandal- you know Fremont tried to kill Millard?”

“Really?” The man asks and Stiles nods absently.

“Well it’s good as old news now but he did, I saw it in the city paper so it must be true. Course all the men nowadays are whipped up the arse, got no brain if you gave em one. They think all sorts of things that aren’t right- but what’s to do when we’re near collapse.”

“Them Republicans tryin’ to take our slaves- they’re no good. Radical abolitionists, just like those women tryin’ to say they got rights to vote. Women don’t know a good left or right.”

“Then I have no say to argue you. Elders are wiser than I.” Stiles says as his nana comes up next to him and sits down on the other side of him.

“Well good morning,” she cooes, out of breath. “Oh it’s hot as god forsaken in here,” she informs, fanning herself.

“Nana it’s october, the thermometer read it was less than 45 degrees outside…” Stiles tells her, tilting his head in confusion. “Here, ya want me to take yer sweater? Maybe that’s why you’re so hot, cause of that there sweater-”

“No! I want my sweater,” the woman demands, swatting him with the fan. “It ain’t no fourty-five, it’s more like eighty five. You’re just readin it wrong.”

“Alright nana,” Stiles says before shaking his head slightly in amusement, his head turns to spot his mother and father together, happy as could be and his eyes even land on Lydia Martin who looks miserable- sat beside her mother, hands folded, eyes averted, the society girls loitered around her ( _ prostitutes, the lot of them, _ he thinks and it’s vulgar and unkind but it was true and he knew it). Karen tries catching his gaze, he avoids hers and watches Lydia- he feels as longing as she looks. He wishes he could fix her and he doesn’t really know why. The pastor steps up and now the session was starting.

 

Lydia says three prayers. 

_ Lord let him love me. _

_ Lord let my future be kind to me. _

_ Lord let me make him proud of me.  _

And Lydia knows that maybe he would be more friendly, that maybe he wanted this to work to but she knew how much he loathed her and her ideals and her views, that if he knew of her past, perhaps he would think her a dirty whore, that if he knew of her personal afflictions, he might think her over dramatic but Lydia wants no more than to be loved by her future husband, to give him everything, to be everything he would ever hope her to be with a healthy bundle of children and all. 

As the service ends, she stands to leave but as she steps outside the door, a hand is wrapped around her arm and she looks up to see an elderly but taller woman, who is a bit frail looking but also very strong looking with long black hair and honey colored eyes. “Why you must be Lydia Martin, the Northern Beauty who’s parents are runnin a muck, ay?”

“Uhm yes… I suppose so.”

“Of course you are. I’m Stiles nana, I just wanted to speak with you over lunch.”

“Me?” Lydia asks confused and Stiles is watching from inside as people file out, his nana putting a hand on her back and leading her down the steps, Natalie intercepting. 

“Who are you?”

“Why how dare you lay your hand on an elderly woman! Have you no manners lady?” The word lady comes out bitter and spiteful not elegant and poised and Natalie withdraws. “I’m Claudia’s mother and I plan on treating Lydia to lunch. How does the girl come out better mannered than her mother?” She scoffs in offense and continues to lead Lydia away. 

“I’m sorry for my parents.”

“Don’t let them ruin you. Stiles can redeem you.”

“Nobody outside of the family knows.”

“I know. I’m Kasia Autenberg,” she introduces.

“Lydia Martin.”

“Stiles told me all about you.”

“Did he?”

“Of course, come now, we should talk over a meal. I know this great restuarant in town, if you would like to try there?”

“Oh sure,” Lydia agrees, nodding excitedly almost. “Mama hasn’t let us eat out since I was a child and we could afford cooks at home.”

Kasia laughs. “Stiles loves it too, he gets excited like a child to go out into the town just for recreation with me. The poor boy never gets a break. He’s too young to be collectin’ grays.”

“I don’t think it makes him any less beautiful if that counts.”

“Beautiful? What a strange thing to say bout a man. Well y’all ain’t wrong, he is beautiful as son. I swear it no grandbaby o’ mine is as gorgeous as that boy and his sister. Claudia always been my favorite but my poor dear needs me now, and I promised I’d help her.”

“Why didn’t you come before?” Lydia prods. “With the death and everything, you must have taken it pretty hard.”

“Death… why oh yes, it was a toll mainly on their family. An old family friend. But it’s no matter, of course, i am here because she wants me to be here, but prior to that Claudia had all but shut me out.”

“And now?”

“She wants her life back. You’ll understand one day.”

“I hope I will.” 

“Of course you will. You’ll understand just good and well,” Kasia assures before turning into the town and Lydia following behind her obediently. She watches the woman and her heart is racing- what has Stiles told her? She wonders for a moment if he likes her, if he thinks she’s beautiful too, if he has grown to feel for her more kindly but simply doesn’t want to show it. She wonders if what he’s told her was all bad and no good. She finds that she doesn’t care because Stiles was talking about her and that’s all that mattered. He was talking about her, he had told his Nana all about her- and all about her how? He barely knew her but her heart soared. 

She feels niave and all too easy, but all at once she is so glad that it is set in stone for them to marry- she wants nothing more for Stiles to be happy, happy with her, happy with what she could give him. She wonders if he would mind her reading books or even if sometimes she could sit down and look over court cases with him (she fancies that she might be a good lawyer if she could put her mind to work) or maybe even just sit with drinks and talk, talk about smart things and good things and all sorts of things. She just wants Stiles and she just wants to have the kind of relationship she read in the books- marriage or scandal at it’s finest, with a passionate, unsevered love that was only defined by it’s presence in the air that took over. 

Though they reach the restaurant and once they’re sitting, Lydia can’t help it. “What did he say?” She asks, feebly but very desperate to know- she hates the desperatity in her voice, she’s given herself away. 

Kasia laughs. “What did who say?”

“Stiles about me?”

“I suppose you want detail. Well, I’m no good secret keeper. He told me you were as annoying as  a gnat on a hot summers day- he say that you were buzzing with thought like electrical current during a thunderstorm, that you walk like you’re the high prowess of the earth, that you think you’re queen to all land or something like that- and that you’re parents are the defining matter of no good.”

“Oh.” Lydia seems disappointed and she’s almost sorry she asked, that is until Kasia spoke again.

“Though I never heard him describe somebody so vividly, even Allison he has a vague description of but no you- you were the girl with emerald eyes and hair as red as fire but softened by the tones of the sun- you were girl with sun freckles on her nose and a white smile. He may insult you at all given points but he  _ loves  _ a fight, don’t you done go and think he doesn’t find every bit of you attractive. He might have a strong bite, but honey you’re a woman that already has his eyes set on a girl who can fight back. Don’t let him bog you down.”

“What if he really does hate me?”

“I don’t think he does.”

“He noticed my freckles?”

“Aye.”

“I notice his everything. He has chestnut hair, eyes as brown as whiskey and he has long fingers that bulge with the veins just above the wrist. He’s a mama’s boy and he loves to read books, I noticed, and sometimes when he thinks nobody is looking, he gets a very sad kind of look on his face as he falls into thinking although I can never quite pinpoint what he’s thinking about- also once he had claimed if he wanted to oggle at me, he would do so openly and that he braids his sister’s hair and was very fascinated in my own.”

“Isn’t that sweet. Now see, you just have to get to him. Keep pushing because Stiles Stilinski is the kind of man who closed off his heart a while ago and he doesn’t want any distraction from the way of his world- so you go down there, and you sit yourself between him and his papers. Be a lil bit nosey, try to worm your way into his head, fight with him, laugh with him, hell  _ kiss  _ him if nobody else is looking- them pants of his are too twisted, you just gotten untwist them a bit.” 

“And that’s all it takes?”

“Well not all, men are real complicated like that but sugar, bless your heart, your parents may be the devils companion but you the realest honeypie I ever done seen. I don’t want him with no whore like those society girls, you’re a good girl.”

“I-” she hesitates for a moment. “I’ve repented for my sin and so I suppose I’m not a good girl, just a better girl.”

“And what had you done?”

“He claimed that he loved me so I gave him what he wanted but i- I was only fifteen, I didn’t know any better,” Lydia defended quickly and the woman’s frail body shakes with laughter as she wipes the sweat from her brow. 

“Lord, I wish I could tell you what I’d done did back in my day. Girl you ain’t got nothin on you, I just want him to have better than what I was and better than what is mother was.”

“I truly believe that his mother seems to be the greatest woman alive- he speaks highly of her.”

“‘And he a good boy like that.”

“Yeah he is.” Lydia smiles and she decides that she very much likes this woman, more than any other woman she had ever met. She wonders how long she’s staying and finds herself longing the woman never leave. She liked her company. She liked being accepted and she liked being able to speak her mind and talk to somebody. 

 

Stiles was wondering about with Isaac, just walking  back towards his ranch and he didn’t really know what to say, he’s confounded in quiet for no bare reason other than he just can’t bring himself to speak today. There is nothing he wants to say and nothing he wants to do- he has a feeling Isaac feels the same. They walk in comfortable silence and Isaac drags his fingers across the metal fences when they present themselves- as if they were boys. Stiles smiles at the sound of skin on rusted metal and thinks that one day he will look back and remember this in a white light of him and Isaac Lahey, the most handsome Irish boy to ever live, walking in comfortable silence as his fingers drag across the metal.

“Perhaps you’re one of my best friends,” Stiles proposes and Isaac scoffs a bit.

“And perhaps you’re one of mine.”

“It’s a fair deal really. You understand me and I protect you. No better bargain between men really.”

“It’s true, no better bargain. We’re a good pair.”

“We are. So good, you have me speakin all proper like ya.”

“That was not my fault.” 


	13. chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles and Lydia set a date for their engagement then proceed to have a bit of alone time together after lunch. Allison and Scott are alone for awhile then Allison falls asleep on Scott and wakes up in her bed with a note from Scott where he tells her he's just gone out to town for awhile, and Allison is left to have second thoughts about her relationship with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Stiles is somewhat nice to Lydia in this. I mean, they have a heart to heart at some point. It's good times. ALSO  
>  thank you so much to all of you who are leaving comments! I'm so glad that for many of you this has become your favorite fic and if there is anything you want to request/see happen or want to ask me to improve on, I'm all ears. Thank you for continuing to read! I appreciate it so much you guys!

Stiles and Isaac approach the drawing room on the second floor in the third wing, entering the room sat around were both of Stiles parents and both of Lydia’s (alongside Stiles pop-pop), and they look up to see him and Isaac enter- both boys equally perplexed in face as they enter the pastel green colored room, embroidered with intricately laid out furniture, glances exchanging between them. “Is everything alright?” Stiles wonders aloud and his mother stands and approaches him, glancing to Isaac.

“Well Lydia and your nana are comin real soon and when they do we’ll be sure to call you over. Isaac, you don’t mind just lounging around do you?” Claudia asks, brushing a hand through Stiles’ hair, as if watching him for the answer. 

“Yes’m, it’s just fine,” Isaac answers softly, watching the two and Claudia nods with a slow intention, her sparkling blue eyes concentrated on Stiles who seems to be watching the dust in the air above them as if avoiding the topic at hand. 

“Is something wrong?” He repeats.

“No… no nothing’s wrong,” she answers softly.

“Where’s Jack and Caden, I want to see them…”

“They’re in their nursery with the nurse.”

“Alright, Isaac let’s go.” 

And with that they turn and close the heavy wooden door, walking down to the nursery where his brothers run to greet him, stiles kneeling to hug both of them. Isaac smiles just slightly at the sight and leans against the door frame. 

“That perty girl Lydia is comin’ over,” Jack informs giggling and Stiles laughs softly.

“Yeah she is, mama said so.”

“You marryin’ her Stiles? I would love to have  _ her  _ as a sister- she’s sweet as honey and has hair as sure as fire. And you see the way her freckles shine in the morning light? She’s a real beauty Stiles,” his brother rambles and Stiles laughs. 

“No I never done noticed that she got freckles. You really been takin a looker to her then, huh?”

“Yeah I about done have, maybe I’ll marry her for ya.”

“Now I don’t think no Lydia Martin girl wants a husband who’s seven years old, aye?”

“Nay, I sure be a lot cuter than you sir,” Jack pretends, straightening his shirt and standing up taller, Stiles laughs and shakes his head. 

“Well go ahead, you can try and take her from me but I sure as ever already won her heart. I am beautiful, according to that strange girl.”

“You’re marrying her?” Isaac inquires.

“Well… that’s what I assume they want to talk about.” 

“Makes an awful lot of sense. Do you want to marry her?”

“I’d rather stake myself through the heart before marryin some northern temptress.”

“You speak too low of her, I don’t think you despise her that much.”

“Maybe your right, maybe I just like callin her names.” Stiles shrugs and he’s not being sarcastic here, he’s just being truthful because maybe he did just like calling her names, maybe it wasn’t her fault that he hated the idea of getting married- he was young and hopeful and he still had things he wanted to do. But this shouldn’t stop him, that’s what they all said that marriage was wonderful and love always worked if you wanted it to. But how could he love Lydia Martin when she was such a stubborn, strong headed girl who probably had a brain bigger than his own? How could he love at all when he was the Cold and Careful Stiles Stilinski, the boy who only looked out for himself and cared for himself? How could anybody love  _ him  _ when some people thought he had barely a heart at all- a lawyer, a plantation owner, rich and beautiful and only meant for the public eye? Stiles thinks that maybe it could work but with her parents interference, nothing would work, in all cases, he was due to put Francis to arrest tomorrow if the papers came that he had in fact committed fraud. 

Although for a single moment, Stiles can imagine Lydia in a flowing, large white dress that slims up with lace to the neck, just enough skin showing to be pleasing to a man’s eye but not too much to be scandalous, and he can see her hair done up and he can see her smiling and he could already hear the waltz of their first dance and he wonders if this is what he really wants but it isn’t deep down that he knows it, it’s just on the surface, he has no choice because this is what he’s had to have. Lydia Martin on a white dress on their wedding day and either they choose to be miserable or he chooses to love her. Stiles decides he doesn’t want to be miserable but he doesn’t know how to make things any better. He feels helpless and it’s as if he’s drowning in the few moments he’s out of it.

“Stiles are you listening?” Jack yells, tugging his ear and Stiles snaps back to reality. 

“No I’m sorry, I suppose I just got lost in thought. What’s the matter baby boy?”

“I was telling you all about our game- the one we made up.”

“Who made up?”

Jack gestures between himself and Caden as if it were obvious. “We made up, Stiles.”

“Ah. Please, tell me all about it, I’ll listen this time.” 

“Stiles?” Boyd inquires as he steps regally into the room. “You’re being called too.”

Jack huffs and Stiles grins at the boy, giving him a raspberry on the neck. He glances quick around the pinkish room before standing up and shaking his head as Jack tugs at his sleeve to stay. “Talk to Isaac until I get back, I have business to take care of.” 

With that he leaves, going back up the hall and left into the drawing room, passing his own old nursery on the way, turning left at the steps and into the drawing room , second door to the right of that hallway. Entering Lydia is now sat beside her parents and Stiles places himself between his grandparents, Kasia smiles and runs her fingers through his hair.

“Nice of you to join us,” she teases.

“Well, I was kicked out of the room,” he teases back and they smile but it’s only brief as Natalie clears her throat.

“We’re here for a reason, not for fun over tea,” she scolds as if they’re all children. Everybody goes silent as if waiting for her to make the announcement that she seemed so eager to make but Natalie now seems to be waiting, shifting uncomfortably.

“Oh for heaven's sake! They want to know what the date of your public engagement is going to be,” Kasper Autenberg, Stiles’ pop-pop and Kasia’s husband fills in a bit irritated with the woman. 

“Oh we weren’t wondering at all, I was thinking two weeks from now is suitable, you propose in public- make a big show of it, maybe pretend to be in love a little bit and then we make the wedding in the summer,” Claudia proceeds to fill in and Stiles nods.

“I won’t pretend to be in love,” Lydia speaks up and Stiles looks to her.

“Just… show that we’re happy, that’s all.”

“Why? You don’t even like me.”

“And I told you before I’m willing to try- I want this to work out.”

“Why are you willing to make me happy?” 

“Because this isn’t just your happiness we’re sacrificing.” 

Lydia stops dead cold, suddenly she feels inconsiderate because she wanted to make him happy and she had a feeling that he had some sense of knowing but now she feels that perhaps he doesn’t know it all and he’s sitting in this dim green room with the thought that she was dreading this marriage to him . Yet she wasn’t dreading it at all, and yet he was dreading it so much but he was willing to  _ try  _ and he was willing to give before taking. 

“I… I don’t think I’m  _ sacrificing  _ anything, if it means anything to you,” Lydia barely whispers looking him dead in the eye and the room is dead silent, there is nothing but a taught tension between her and Stiles and she wants to move closer to him, she wants to sit in his lap and draw him nearer to her, kiss his neck and tell him that she wants nothing more than to be with him-  _ why  _ she does is beyond her because he’s never been so kind to her but Lydia Martin has always been a fool for a pretty face, except this one was willing to love her back. 

“If it means anything to you, I’m no so sure it does, to be real honest.”

“You’re always so quick to turn me down. What is it you like to call me? The real witch of Salem?”

“Wicked Witch of the North, Real Witch of Salem, a bad omen, whatever you prefer.” 

“You like calling me names, don’t you Mister Stilinski?”

“My favorite passtime, really.”

“I would make a comment about being your favorite passtime but our parents are right here.”

“You ought’a keep your mouth shut before somebody takes you seriously and uses you to their advantage. You don’t want to be a true society girl now do you, Lydia Martin?”

“A true society girl? What on earth is wrong with the society girls?” Natalie Martin asks looking surprised and the other family plus Lydia stifle laughter and Stiles shrugs innocently.

“Well I wouldn’t want to a fowl a woman’s innocence now would I?” Stiles counters, leaning cooly back against the couch, arm rested over and behind his grandmother who leans into him, laughing softly at the clueless woman.

“They really know nothin and how long they been here?” his nana asks, chuckling and Claudia smiles softly at the group, amused by her son. 

“Since July if I recount it correctly,”  Stiles says, looking up and pretending to count as if to fact check. “Yes, July. End of July though they do like to be nuiscances sometimes- only pay attention to themselves.” 

“I’m confused,” Natalie inquires and Stiles shrugs, shaking his head.

“Well if you don’t know, now you know I guess.”

“She doesn’t know anything at all, Stiles!” Lydia reminds him and giggles.

“I imagine you know, though- have they inducted you yet?” Stiles inquires and Lydia throws a silky pink pillow at him and he lets it hit him, laughing at her.

“You’re horrible! And if you must know, I haven’t been ‘inducted’. Have you ever been part of their ‘inductions’ Stiles or are you a truly a godly boy?”

“Not over their dead bodies-”

“I should hope not, that’s weird!”

“They wished!”

Lydia makes a noise of disgust and his entire family and Lydia’s father are amused at the scene of the two. “That’s the worst thing you’ve ever said.”

“I really must say horrible things- that's the second time you’ve told me that!”

“You’re a horrible person. What am I supposed to tell you? That you’re angel of men?”

“That’s preferable, really. I am angel of men.”

“And I walk with my nose up high.”

“Almost high as Malia Tate’s nose.”

“Are you saying I’m better than somebody?”

“You’re the only pure one in that group and everybody is better than the lowly trash those girls are.”

“Maybe they’re just all talk.”

“And maybe you’re just all rumors. What difference does it make? A reputation proceeds and you can’t do nothin about it.”

“Well I haven’t been inducted but I do believe Karen has.”

“Oh really?” 

“It’s a topic of conversation for another time,” Lydia informs and Stiles rolls his eyes.

“That sounds sinful, I’ll have Allison tell me or Elizabeth, I’m sure she knows.”

“Elizabeth Darcy?” 

“No Elizabeth Argent, don’t be bleak Lydia.”

“Well pardon my confusion,” she huffs at Stiles and rolls his eyes again, his mother leaning back into the chair and playing with the shingles on a pillow, watching her son and future daughter in law- they just gravitated towards each other, even if they seemed to abhor the other, there was something tugging the two together, a string of familiarity, something that made them  _ work  _ in the same sense that it made them clash. 

“That’s enough you two, we need a set date for the engagement,” Claudia cooes, smiling absently as she continues to play with the pillow, the cat that Lydia had seen the day she’d burst into his study having sauntered in and settled at Stiles’ feet, head on her paws as she watched and listened with wide blue eyes, her white and brown coat soft as if brushed down. 

“The twenty-fourth should do fine,” Stiles decides and Lydia nods in agreement, not seeing any reason to oppose him, watching Stiles scoop the cat up and kiss her little face, the cat trying to climb onto his shoulder and pawing at his face- happy to discover a kiss every time it landed on his mouth.  

“You have a cat?” Lydia asks and Stiles scoffs- dumb question. 

“No she’s obviously a rabbit,” he retorts, kissing her soft pink paw again as she playfully presses it there before squirming from his hold and finding purchase in his lap, sprawling herself enough to be comfortable, on her back, white tummy out for a rubbing. Stiles gently pets the short fur and the kitten purrs, eyes shut happily and Lydia smiles slighty, tries not to focus on the way his hands coax the cat’s fur because it’s wrong and yet- she had a right to wonder considering they were getting married within a few months time and marriage does come with such intimate (and if done right, dirty) things and really she’s doing herself a disservice for not thinking about it, but she assumes now is not the time. She also wonders if there's any given point in time where she could catch him shirtless, just to get a glimpse of what she could have and if his arms mean anything than praise the good lord, she would happier than ever. Though Jackson had a nice physique but was disappointing below the hips- though Jackson looked like he was disappointing below the hips, Stiles simply didn’t, she figured she might be pleased with what she finds on their wedding night. 

“Lydia,” her mother prods her and Lydia looks up. 

“What?” Lydia cooes faintly, innocent like a child with her blow green eyes and hair falling to the side as she tilts her head making Stiles smile to himself. 

“We were talking about how much we all hated you,” Stiles informs and she frowns and he laughs at her.

“Everybody hates you, it’s no surprise though.”

“Not really. I’m not here to be nice.” 

“Is that so?”

“Mmhm. No but really, they want to know the theme of the engagement party.” 

“Theme? I don’t know, The Lord Jesus sounds like a good answer.”

“Haha very funny.” Stiles rolls his eyes. “Seriously, pick a color theme or something.”

“Faeries.”

“That’s more wedding-esque.”

“Fine, the color purple.”

“Better. I can work with that.”

“You’re arranging it?”

“With your help, of course,” Stiles says as if it’s obvious and his honey eyes are a bit lighter than normal and she notices that his face has a bit of a shadow on it, implying he hasn’t gotten to shave a second time that day. Lydia finds that she doesn’t really care and that Stiles might look nice with facial hair. Though, not much facial hair, just some facial hair- she wonders if it really matters to her, she agrees with herself that it would be nice occasionally.

“I can help. And when do you suppose we do all this in two weeks?”

“During my lunch hours at work.” 

“So three times a week for about an hour is all I get?”

“If you insist, we also have afterwards. Although we’d meet here.”

She was about to ask why when they both glanced at her parents and then she nods. “I agree, we meet here.”

“Good as grace, then I must return to Jack, he was telling me a story.” Stiles stands and leaves the room to head down to the nursery with his cat in his arms. The now alert cat blinks her blazing blue eyes and wiggles free, walking alongside Stiles into the nursery where Isaac was left to play with the boys, seeming to have no complaint. Stiles joins them and Caden ushers a toy into his hand and Stiles takes it and joins in on their fun.

“I need to tell you about the game.”

“Well go on and tell me all about it.” 

  
  


Allison’s parents weren’t home, leaving her and Scott alone, sitting in the garden to lunch. She’d since dismissed the staff from their presence and was sat in his lap, playing with the lapels of his suit jacket, listening to his voice as he describes something from home and she smiles.

“I wish I could see your home, it sounds so beautiful,” she whispers, pushing his hair from his eyes and Scott laughs, kissing the corner of her mouth.

“You’re always welcome to visit though I don’t think your parents would like you going out alone, very much.”

“Oh bless their hearts, they just worry that’s all. Of course, I would love to go see your home, and Texas is a state now afterall.”

“Sure it is, though I don’t know if many people like us.”

“Oh nobody likes anybody anymore. We’re a world divided and secluded.”

Scott laughs and pushes back her hair, kissing the temple on her head. “You’re a smart girl, woke as the sunshine of the day.”

“You love that I’m smart, don’t’ch’a?” 

“Course I do. I love everything about you- there’s nobody on earth for me but you.”

Allison watches him with big loving eyes and she finds no words to say and says none at all, leaning forward she kisses him full on the lips- something rushing through her at the danger of potentially being caught. She’d never kissed anyone so publically before, she knew she could get in trouble but she finds she likes it, that’s it thrilling and makes her heart race and when her tongue meets his, she thinks her heart might leap out of her chest. 

She shifts in his lap to a more comfortable angle, her head tilting to meet the kiss more deeply and passion rots her bones the way guilt and sin rots her soul- she remembers when she met Scott and Stiles had predicted that this would happen and she parts to breathe for a moment and she looks almost guilty but smiles slightly and Scott moves the hair out of her eyes, hand rested along the thick fabric of the dress, pressed to what would be her thigh. Her corset restricts against it’s binds and she feels as if she can’t breathe for a second, gazing up into his dark brown (almost black) eyes and he meets her gaze.

“What are you looking at?”

“You’re eyes,” she whispers and her hand reaches to brush along the bone beneath his eyes, tracing it to the shape of his brow- which she smooths and gently kisses the corner of his mouth. “You make me so happy,” she whispers.

“You make me even happier. No man has ever been as happy as I am when I’m with you.”

“Oh and such a poet. I love you, I do.”

“Then when will it be right for me to ask you to marry me?”

“When I’ve decided.”

“But if you love me, why are you still considering Isaac?” 

“Because… It’s what I must do.” 

“I’ll never understand you.”

“One day you will.”

“Can I propose anyways?”

“Are you proposing now?”

“No.”

“Then we’d have to see, wouldn’t we?”

They laugh and she leans against him further, her breasts pressed to his collar, her arm hugging his head as she kisses along the shell of his ear, biting occasionally to feel his breath hitch, she desperately wants to kiss him again but she’s afraid that maybe he won’t accept her this time- that is until he kisses her first and she’s convinced he could never deny her. Allison sinks back into his lap, in their previous position and she kisses him like she may never be kissed again. Long, passionate and boardering on desperate, under brick columns that hold a threshold of vines that shade them in the october light. She wants to stay here forever and her heart skips a beat in fear because she has never wanted eternity before but with Scott eternity only feels right.

 

Stiles meets Lydia once more when Lunch is called and they sit across from each other. Stiles finds he’s at a loss of appetite and the plates the servants bring around are nothing but great but he finds himself taking little of the decadent food passed around. He pours himself champagne, he takes two slices of ham and cornbread. He picks at it slightly and Isaac notices- he’s not sure he really likes this mood that Stiles is in.

It seems since church he’d been in a funk, a somber aura collecting his normally bright and talkative friend into the quiet and dark. He wonders what set it off, and Lydia seems to pick up too- just moments prior he had seemed so gleeful in the room where they were talking but now he seems lonely and the light against his back makes him seem frail (much like his grandmother) and the creases in his face make him seem much older for a second but all at once, he seems very handsome. She wonders how somebody could be so beautiful, she wonders how he went from being so happy to so lonely seeming in a matter of 45 minutes. 

The purple napkins on the pink table are set along each white, decorated with flowers, plate and Stiles has one ringing between his fingers, though realizes he’s being unmannerly and places it on his lap and cuts into the ham that was served to him, he folds the slice with the fork then skewers it on and eats it. Isaac and Lydia both watch him with a fascination and Lydia leans over to Isaac. 

“Is he alright?”

“I don’t really know, he’s been like this since the service.”

“Why?” she whispers and Isaac shrugs.

“Beats me… he was talking about legacy or something this morning. How his family has always been here, how he has to carry a name…” Isaac whispers just for her to hear and Lydia seems perplexed. “He was saying something about how he thought the angels used to play the pipe organs… I think he’s just in a mood,” Isaac concludes to ease her worry and she nods.

 

Lunch passes and Isaac leaves, Lydia and Stiles are alone in the garden, with a notebook and pencil in front of Lydia as she thinks. Stiles is still absent and he watches her tap at the page, though he really doesn’t have any ideas and neither does she. She notices the absence in his eyes, the void expression on his face that gives her no hint to his thoughts and she laces their hands- out of sheer will- and he looks up surprised. 

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine…” 

“You’re lying to me.”

Stiles shrugs. “How would you know I’m lying?”

“Isaac says you're in a mood.”

“I think I’m in a mood. I’ll be fine tomorrow.”

“People don’t just get in moods.”

“Sure they do. I just woke up and wasn’t really feeling it. I just wanted to stay in bed but here I am, moving on with life.”

“What’s so bad about leaving bed?”

“It’s brisk outside and in bed it’s very warm. Also in bed I can cuddle Athena with no repercussions.”

“Athena?”

“My cat?”

“Oh right. You never told me her name.”

“Her name is Athena.”

“Are you upset?”

“What do you mean upset?”

“Like… is something bothering you?”

“I didn’t realize you were suddenly a doctor.”

“Oh stop- no really, I want to know. Is everything okay?”

“Everything’s just fine I suppose.”

And out of a bout of confidence, Lydia kisses his knuckles softly and smiles. “I want them to be.” 

Stiles laughs, his thumb caressing her bony hand. “Don’t get gutsy next thing you know you’ll be trying to get inducted into the Society Girls Club™.”

“Well I don’t think I’d mind very much being inducted by  _ you _ .” 

“Promiscuous girl.”

“Future wife. We have a right to consider it- induction into the marriage club.” 

“Cute.” 

“I am, aren’t I?” 

Stiles laughs. “Sure.”

“You have to kiss me back.”

“Talk to me on our wedding day.”

“We can’t be in love if we’ve never even kissed.”

“Sure we can.”

Lydia shakes her head. “It’s just my knuckles,that’s not too bad. Hm?”

“It’s bad enough.”

She kisses his again and leans back. “Maybe I should buy myself a transparent corset for you.”

“What a dream come true.” He rolls his eyes and she giggles.

“You’ve at least thought about me once.”

“Not at all.”

“Oh?”

“I’m not a sinner, not like you.”

“I’ve repented.”

“What did you do?”

“None of your concern.”

“Oh?”

“Mhm.”

“What a trustfund we have.”

“The best one really.”

“Why do you like me so much?” Stiles asks suddenly and Lydia seems surprised.

“What?”

“I don’t know, I’ve only ever been unkind to you- why do you like me so much?”

“Because you’re smart and beautiful and apparently you like the way my freckles catch the light.”

Stiles laughs. “Where on earth did you hear that last one?” 

“Your nana?” 

Stiles giggles. “Not to get your hopes down but I’m afraid she’s mixed me up with Jack- he’s taken an awful liking to ya.”

“Oh has he?”

“Claims he’s gonna marry ya. I might break his heart.”

“Mmm I think I much prefer you over a little boy.”

“Well, we all have our preferences, don’t we?”

“Really, you’re disgusting sometimes.”

“It’s true! If men can marry little girls, surely somewhere girls have married little boys.”

“You’ve made a good point but that’s not how the patriarch works, if you haven’t noticed. Men can rape and take all they want- white men specifically- but girls cannot because we’re too weak and foolish.”  
“Well if you’re foolish than I’m fooled, I’m pretty sure that’s something only a smart young woman could say.”

“You know who has everybody fooled?” Lydia inqures, leaning forward on the white painted, wooden table.

“Who?”

“You.” 

“I do?”

“You do. You’re not nearly as horrible as some men tend to be- if you think I’m smart for no other reason than a sentence or two, and you free all these slaves and take care of them, then really you’ve just fooled everyone- lured them in like a miraj. And really I don’t think I buy it anymore.”

“I don’t fool anyone. I just do what I have to.”

“So you’re a man of duty.”

“And I presume you’re not a lady of anything?”

“If you want to put it that way but soon I’m to be lady of this household.”

“You have a lot of learning to do.”

“Maybe I do. I think I told you that you’d fall in love with me. I stand by my statement.”

“And I told you that it wouldn’t happen, I stand by mine.”

“Do you?”

“Until you prove me wrong, I won’t back down on a statement.”

“Want to know a secret?”

“What’s that?”

Lydia leans in really close, so close he can feel her breath on his ears and she whispers. “I think you already have.”

“Well don’t you know? According to this whole town, I don’t have a heart.”

“And why is that?”

“Because I do what i have to in order to protect myself… and my own good name.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah.”

“What did you do?”

“I turned down Erica Reyes and she was not very happy about it.”

“Oh?”

“Used to be a society girl. I guess she wanted to have sex, I denied her of it- then she tried to tell people I was using her and I shut the whole thing down, snapped at her in front of a crowd.”

“And now they think you’re a heartless for lashing out on a poor girl but really she used you?”

“She almost ruined my good name.” 

“What happened to her?”

“Allison happened to her. She moved.”

“What did Allison do?”

“You’ll see when it happens to another.”

“Oh?”

“Remember how you said I think life is a game? Well I don’t treat life like a game, but I do like to play games and Allison is my willing participant. There are ways to get what you want.”

“Is there now?”

“Of course there is.”

“How so?”  
“Can I ask you something?”

“What’s that, Stiles?”

“Tomorrow I have to arrest your father. Are you okay with that?”

“You have to arrest him?” 

“I do. There was a tremor in the script so when I took it to see the signiture, I found that there was a difference, although very similar, they’re very different. I have to arrest him until we get the facts straight.”

“That would go on his record.”

“I know and I can’t do anything about it.”

“Because it’s your duty.”

“Because it’s my job and it’s the law.”

“How long will he be there?”

“Well if he fesses up, he might not even be there a day. It’s all a matter of what he wants to tell us.”

“Why are you telling me?”

“Because I don’t want to betray your trust. I don’t want to be fine now and fighting over this tomorrow.”

“Do I tell him?”

“No.”

“Why?”

Stiles hesitates for a moment and Lydia looks up at him with pleading eyes. “Some things are better left unsaid. Don’t make him unhappy.”

“Then it’s done.”

“You won’t tell?”

“I promise on the grave of my grandfather.”

“Then I accept your promise.”

She wants to tell him that she loves him but she swallows the words very quickly in fear of what they truly mean to her. She squeezes his hand but doesn’t let go- she thinks that she’s going to like loving him very much and if this is the start of anything, it’s the start of her whole life- her future, her possibilities. She wants to lean over and kiss him but she doesn’t. She wants to tell him she loves him but she refuses it and Stiles had taken the pencil and paper and was sketching out an idea of what they’re engagement party should look like and she thinks that Stiles is so full of surprises, things that people would never know but she would soon find out and unfold. Malia Tate and Karen Rothman both spoke of him like they already had him but boy were they wrong and Lydia had never felt so victorious in her life at the thought. She beams a beautiful smile.  She was happy. 

 

Allison had fallen asleep on Scott’s shoulder previously, and she wakes up to find herself resting in bed, over her covers with a note beside her.

_ You looked so peaceful and I didn’t want to wake you _

_ Went to town and will be back soon _

  1. _McCall_



Allison smiles and tucks the note into her drawer for safekeeping and rolls over into her plush set of pillows, hugging one of them happily. Though the guilt from earlier that day starts to gnaw at her stomach and it loops in knots- she’s done a bad thing and she doesn’t know what to say for it. Even worse, Allison knows she’d do it again, her legs stick at just the mere ideas of his hands on her, the flush warmth that comes with their sex, the intimacy of his kisses- and she doesn’t want to give it up but she hates the feeling it gives her after. 

She feels as if she’s betrayed her whole family, she’s betrayed her good name. She can’t quite erase the look of disapproval that Stiles gave her- she distinctly remembers the conversation they had when they were eighteen, he had never truly approved of her and Scott, even if he approved of Scott- he had told her, she recalls, that he would get her into trouble and she thinks she recalls him saying some few months ago, the night she’d gone over for coffee with Lydia. It was just… the look he gave her this morning with Isaac beside him- she wonders what Isaac  _ said  _ that causes such a glare to be pointed towards her and she shifts uncomfortably and she feels a sob break into her chest but she’s not the type of girl who cries over nothing's so she refuses to cry.

Allison knows that in her heart she should marry Scott, especially with their recent… activities. But Allison also knows she still wants to know Isaac more, she still wants to explore her chances but what man wants a girl that’s already been taken by another man? Her reputation was taken and she was soiled, she clutches her pillow and she doesn’t think she can breathe anymore. 


	14. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles and Allison get into a fight (yikes~!)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> baby i'm on a rooooolll!!  
> yeah my heart broke a little writing this but also mended myself with the end. Anyways I might post one more chapter today?????????????? I really am feeling my writing right now, I love this story so much. I don't think anybody could love this as much as I do, I literally love my story to pieces

Stiles is solemn walking up to the house, he feels as if he’s reaping a life and he holds his head high, waits for somebody to answer the door and to his advantage, it’s one of Boyd’s friends, Justin. Stiles nods his head and requests to see Mister Martin and he is brought to a drawing room. Stiles enters and he looks at Lydia who looks down, Francis standing to greet him but sees the seriousness in his eyes, Natalie catches on and is about to run to defense. 

“Francis Martin I’m here to arrest you for document fraud and the potential distribution of stolen property. It has been decided, as of this morning, that you must be held in custody until your court hearing in a month.”

“A month?” He shouts and Stiles shakes his head, his eyes look icy and Lydia wants to stand beside him, remind him he was only doing his job but she also wants to scream at him, for not telling her about this, for taking him like this. “I refuse to go.”

“If you refuse you’ll only be charged for another thing. You can have a proper lawyer and everything, please, I promise until the State Marshall comes, you just have to sit in a cell in the building. I promise I’ll see to everything else. Just come with me,” Stiles almost pleads, because really this wasn’t his choice and he couldn’t do anything about this and he doesn’t want to have to force anything on anyone, especially in front of Lydia. 

Francis hesitates and Lydia pipes up. “Daddy go. Don’t make him do anything he doesn’t have to.” And Francis retreats, going to Stiles who handcuffs him and Natalie walks forward with him.

“You’re going to pay for this you little rat.”

“I’m only doing my job Mrs. Martin.”

“You’re not doing anything, you’re twisting things.”

“You stole land.” 

“You watch me break this deal with your mother-” 

“And then you’re just ruining yourself. My mother is a force of nature and you’ll be laughed out of the country.”

“Go to hell.”

“Gladly.” Stiles smiles tiredly and Lydia pulls her mother back.

“It’s not his fault mama,” Lydia whispers and Stiles has to take her father and put him in the carriage, sitting up front by the driver, Stiles looks hurt, the day is gloomy, the clouds are darkened over the sky and he can hear thunder cackle a few hundred miles away. He counts, just like T’any had taught him, and he waits. 

 

It was that same afternoon he goes to see Allison, in which her parents and Gerard are still away. He walks into the house and walks into the drawing room he was told Allison and Scott is in and to his (good) fortune, they’re just sitting on the couch talking- even if Allison is still only in her pajamas. She looks up at him and beams out of relief when she sees him and stands to greet him, Stiles opening his arms for a hug and she immedietly runs over, clinging to his torso. They hadn’t been talking much since the party the previous tuesday was it? Or maybe it was Wednesday. He isn’t entirely sure but he is happy to be holding Allison again and he’s elated to be with her once more. 

Stiles pulls away and moves to greet Scott. “McCall! Good to see you again, I feel as though I haven’t seen you in the longest of times. How have you been? Good I hope…” Stiles queries, biting his lip as he tries not to look in the most awkward of situations presented, he doesn’t go into it. 

“Pretty well, actually. Have you been pulling through since the death in your family? I know it’s been hard for you,” Scott sympathizes, putting a hand on his shoulder, covered in the smooth, dark suit jacket and Stiles nods, offering a smile. 

“I actually came here to inform both of you about a special occasion. And Allison I must beg of you not to say anything of it- but I’m proposing to Lydia on October 24th-” he pulls out two invitations and hands it to them, beaming happily. “And I want both of you to be there.” 

“You’re proposing to Lydia?” Allison asks, stepping forward. “No I won’t let you- Stiles is this because of your parents? They put you up to this, didn’t they?” She sounds frantic and she’s tugging at the satin sleeves of her floor length white robe. “You-You can’t! You hate her.”

“Things changed, Allison.”

“I haven’t talked to you in less than a week. Whats changed?” She cries out, looking up at him with big eyes. “I know you don’t like to let anybody down, I know you do what you have to but can’t you be true to your heart just once- Stiles you loathe that girl, you can’t marry her. Don’t you understand this is your own happiness!” 

“I understand and if I wasn’t wiling to marry her I wouldn’t be proposing to her.”

“You already arranged it,” she whispers. “It’s been done, she knows doesn’t she?”

“Allison,” Stiles warns and she turns from him, moving towards Scott who’s baffled and quite frankly, very lost.

“You’re doing yourself a disservice.”

“And I don’t think you’re doing much better.” 

Allison whips around to look at him, a bitter expressoin on her face. “Excuse me?”

“When it comes down to it, are you going to be in Scott McCall’s arms or because of your parents prejudice are you going to end up with Isaac?”

“I… I haven’t even thought about it yet, and my parents would never deny me happiness.”  
“And neither would I. So why aren’t you happy for me?”

“Because you don’t love her.”

“But I’m willing to learn to love her.”

“Is she happy with this?”

“As far as you’re concerned she doesn’t know.”

“Stiles!” 

“Allison, I know what I’m doing. Why don’t you trust me? I trust you, I put my whole faith in you, you think I want to know you’re sleeping around with him?” He vaguely gestures to Scott who seems a bit wounded at the notion.

“And what’s wrong with Scott? What standard of yours doesn’t he meet?”

“He meets all my standards and he’s a lovely person but I don’t want you to get hurt- what if one of you wants out- what if you end up pregnant? You think this is for me?”

“You’re shaming of my love life or your fraud marriage?”

“My marriage isn’t a fraud,” Stiles bit. “And I’m not shaming your love life I’m protecting you.”

Allison looks to Scott and then looks to Stiles. “I don’t need you to protect me. If I go, I’m going for Lydia. Leave.”

“Allison.”

“Go!” She snaps. “I don’t need you telling me what my morals should be, I don’t live to your standards Stiles and obviously you only live to everybody elses. Go.” 

Stiles looks at her hurt but he doesn’t fight her. “Fine. Then I hope to see  _ Scott  _ at my engagement and I hope you’re not there at all,” he says as confidently as he can manage before turning and leaving her house. Allison is reeling, she doesn’t completely understand what she’s done and she knows Stiles is broken but she doesn’t understand how much she’s hurt him- he’s always holding himself up so proudly that she doesn’t think she’s hurt him much at all, not when he walked out with his head held high. 

And Stiles goes home and has a bath drawn, teary eyed and tired, with a large bottle of bourbon on his bathside. He doesn’t know where he went wrong, but really, he’s not in the mood to figure it out. He was better off keeping his mouth shut, swallowing another shot of bourbon. 

Stiles puts the bottle down and sinks into the bath and he wonders if she’s right. Is he doing himself a disservice? Then Stiles continues to think about it, he flips through every girl he knows- he would rather die than marry Malia Tate, Karen Rothman is too thin and dainty, Elizabeth Darcy is too emotional, Erica Reyes is long gone and good at that- and the list continues and he hits Lydia and she just seems favorable. She’s smart. She does have nice freckles, he noticed yesterday, she’s good to talk to, and she seems good at reading him. Stiles decides that Allison is wrong and that he’s not doing himself a disservice- that he really did like Lydia and that she was his best option. 

And all at once his heart breaks because he wouldn’t think that Allison wants to talk to him- that she’d rather be curled around Scott McCall and that she would probably sooner hate him than let him try to advise her. And he can’t help it when he breaks into a sob; he can’t stop it and his breath becomes heavy and he hates it. He needs to stop, he needs to  **stop** but Stiles can’t stop crying, he can’t stop the hot tears as he curls against his knees and he sobs grossly into his arms. He’s vulnerable, he’s hurt, he’s naked in every meaning of the word- Stiles can’t remember the last time he felt this weak, he thinks that he doesn’t like it and bursts into another sob, his facade falling into the water because he can’t stop it- no matter how much he wants to.

He’s yelling at himself inside for it because he wasn’t a girl, his father would whip him if he knew he was crying over something so silly, something so small and stupid but Stiles can’t help it. He falls apart in his own arms with nobody to acknowledge the pain he’s kept inside and everything that’d been building up inside, his mother's miscarriage, his mother's depression, Lady Lesher’s death, the fact he’s getting married soon, the war coming on, arresting Lydia’s father, the violence in the towns to the slaves (some that he knew), the constant fear that he’d say or do something wrong that would get him booted from all society, broke open, it just released.

He doesn’t stop crying for another hour and when alls over, he’s sunk into the bath, he looks more tired than he ever has, and his hair is a mess, he’s gripping his sides, and he considers reaching for the bourbon but can’t bring himself to leave the warmth of his bath. He just stays there, curled up, eyes falling shut until he’s asleep in the bath. 

He remembers the conversation he had with lightening about running away and he thinks that if people didn’t need him here, then he would be long gone. He just wanted to live alone, live his own life, do his own thing, be his own person and yet-

 

Lydia is waiting for him in the drawing room, she wanted to talk but it’s been over an hour now and he still has yet to show. She wonders if he’s okay and she decides that if nobody was going to tell her where he was, she was going to look for him. She stands and goes searching for him, bumping into Brett on the way. 

“Oh! I’m so sorry,” she apologizes. “You wouldn’t have an idea where Stiles is? Boyd said he’d be down soon but then never returned to the room to tell me what happened to Stiles. I’ve been here for over hour now and-”

“I think he’s feeling quite ill actually, Miss, see he came home and went straight to the bath, had a bottle of bourbon and normally that’s not a real good sign- I don’t really know what happened, but he’s since been in there, I was just going to check on him.”

“Oh my… I… let me come with you, let me help. He’s probably drunk himself into a stupor.”

“I… Are you sure? He’s kind of naked.”

“It’s nothing i haven’t seen before,” she whispers and Brett smirks. 

“On him or others.”

“Does it make a difference?”

“Okay, you make a fair point.” 

Brett leads Lydia on to the bedroom and informs her to wait there, that he can get Stiles out and dress him decently enough before getting him to bed. So Lydia waits, his bathroom is another door in his room and she can hear the confused, muffle voice of her fiance and she’s concerned. It isn’t long before there’s some stumbling before they’re in his changing room. Stiles returns in tights and white shirt with a silk robe on. He enters and to his surprise sees Lydia, who straightens. 

“I came just in case Brett needed help.”

“Oh god I totally forgot about our appointment, I’m really sorry-” 

Lydia cuts him off with a shake of her head and taking his spare arm with her small hands and Stiles takes a breath in, sways back a bit and seems confused. 

“It’s fine, you look horrible. Come on lets get you to bed and T’any will make you some soup or something. Okay?”

“Sure…” 

 

Lydia returns 45 minutes later with a bowl of soup and a cup of tea, setting it over his lap and  sitting on the side of her right thigh beside him. She watches him, trying to figure out what happened and Stiles doesn’t say anything.

“I don’t expect you to stay here.”

“That’s the point. It’s not an expectation. It’s my job.”

“You’re not my wife yet.”

“It doesn’t matter. I have to learn how to be.”

Stiles smiles tiredly and nods, spoon playing with the soup, flipping it over, rotating it about watching the steam. “I’m sorry about your father.”

“That’s not what you’re upset about. Brett says it’s not good when you start drinking like that.”

“He told you I was drinking?”

“Is it a big deal? Lots of people drink.”

“I don’t know, its not good to drink.”

“So? Lots of things aren’t good for you.”

“I guess I just don’t like people knowing.”

“Knowing what? That you’re a human, that you feel things, that you get hurt? It’s okay, i don’t care…”

“I just don’t okay!” He snaps. “I don’t… It’s not…” he drops the sentence and sighs. “I’m going to fine alright. Everythin will be fine as peaches tomorrow.” 

Lydia nods and decides to lean her head against his shoulder, her flats poking out from under her dress as she rests against him and he looks down at the openly affectionate girl and she smiles. “Yeah, fine as peaches,” she repeats. “Though maybe it won’t be tomorrow, you got time.”

“We both do,” stiles assures and she looks perplexed. “You’re not okay either, I saw the look on your face earlier- we’ll both be good as daylight soon enough.”

“You’re so sweet sometimes.”

“I’m a lot of things, I guess.”

“And that’s okay,” she whispers , tilting his head to look at her, he meets her eyes and she smiles. “It’s okay,” she whispers, drawling the okay sweetly, her cheeks pink from pinching and he gives her a watery smile back.

“Okay.” 

 

Claudia had stopped at the doorway and she stopped it, the love and care in that girls body was innumerate. She was thankful for Lydia, for giving her son somebody to love, somebody who understood- she knew Stiles put up walls and doors that kept people from entering into his heart, into who he really was, and yet somehow Lydia just seemed to understand- she sat there and told him it was okay and Claudia is ashamed to admit nobody ever had. John had whipped him straight to be the toughest of men, strong and poised and seemingly unbreakable, even if John himself was a sweetheart, he wanted Stiles to be the best. But moments like these, Claudia knew she wouldn’t have known what to say- she would never have told him it was okay, okay to be more than one thing and okay to be human, and okay to feel things.

Bless Lydia Martin’s heart for doing so, because nobody else had and she watches her son sink into the pillows and lydia prods him back up to eat, a hand lovingly caressing his arm. Claudia knows they’ll be a good two, she knows it. 


	15. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Filler chapter mostly, Natalie Martin has some pretty despicable views on her daughter tbh and some bad things happen and Lydia turns to Stiles. Just a warning, Natalie's narration gets a little graphic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this chapter 3 times and i'm so god damn tired *strums guitar*

Nothing seems quite right to Lydia. She’s standing there and looking at dress options, holding one up then another. Claudia and her mother are leaning on the couches as they watch her look through fabric swatch after fabric swatch, dress sketch after dress sketch. None of them seem right and none of them really fit. Claudia is petting Athena who had joined her at the Martin household, her cotton cobalt blue dress sprawled over the couch, the laces on the ends twisted a bit with the fabric, her mother is in a pink dress beside her, watching boredly. 

“What about that pink one?” Claudia asks, vaguely pointing to it, and Lydia picks it up. 

“This one?” She asks, putting it to her and Claudia nods with an approving smile.

“It’ll accentuate your breasts just the right amount if we use the right corset and since it’ll probably be cold we could use a white fur coat over the short sleeves and if you get hot you can remove it.”

It was a beautiful pink dress really, long past the ankles with a white ribbon on along the edge of the skirt where birds and other creatures danced along the stripe and the pale pink. It had a short sleeve with a lace at the cuffs, and the collar of the dress drew into a double layered U shape over the breasts and around, giving it an elegant feel. 

“And if you have pearls,” claudia continues, nodding her head in approval at the thought, pursing her lips a bit. “Stiles would like it.”

“You’re giving me a sex appeal?” Lydia teases and his mother shrugs.

“That boy has too little sex appeal. Get his gears going,” Claudia teases with a wink and Lydia blushes as red as hair, shaking her head as she looks away and goes back to the fabric.

“I mean… he’s still rough on the edges with me.” 

“No matter what he is with you, he has to have sex with you on your wedding night.”

“That’s enough,” Natalie cuts in. “She doesn’t need to be thinking about those things.”

“And here I was thinking you were the liberalist,” Claudia scoffs, smiling at the cat who mewled in approval. “Guess not, just angry all the time.” 

Natalie keeps her mouth shut, biting her tongue as she tries to avoid the other woman. She regrets this, wholly, but Lydia seems to approve of them so much she might as well been a southerner slave owner like the rest of them, she was just as inhumane and scandalous in the first place. Her daughter was a whore, she’d probably lure her fiance into bed before they were even married, the dirty man that he was- he’d probably been in the beds of tons of other girls. He was no holy saint, he was just trying to ruin her family and her daughter was _ practically _ sucking his cock, clung onto every word he and his parents said, as if they were holy saints.  Natalie feels like she might gag, god they could have her, really they could. She disappointed her, and there was nothing more Natalie wanted than to forget it ever happened but she could never look at her daughter the same not after all that she’d done and- she was a  **traitor** . She knew about the arrest, it was written on the look on her face, she sold them out the little  _ bitch _ . 

“Mama, are you listening?” Lydia prods and Natalie looks up and puts on a fake smile. 

“Sorry I was lost in thought. What’s the matter?”

“I was saying would you prefer it in this color or a darker one? I’m afraid the darker one will match my hair too much and I don’t want that. Or maybe a fair green to match my eyes?” 

“Hmm the pink works,” she agrees and nods slowly, looking her over before shaking her head. 

Lydia nods and puts it aside, sitting on one of the couches and huffing her hair out of her face. “Have all the invitations been sent?” 

“Of course they have love,” Claudia assures with a smile. Lydia nods and smiles brightly, Claudia smiles back and Natalie rolls her eyes at the two. 

“I should be going,” Natalie says. “I wouldn’t want to be around southerners more than I have to be.”

  
  


Stiles is working on the farm, his sleeves rolled up as he washes down the horses. His hands running over damp fur and cleaning them down with harsh brushes. Maybelle is especially uncooperative with her bathing today and Stiles is pulling her by the tails of her hair to assure she stays still. Jack and Caden are about the way playing around. 

Stiles isn’t paying attention but as he pulls Maybelle back down to finish washing her main, a figure appears beside him- Scott, naturally. “Hey,” Scott greets and Stiles looks over surprised, eyes wide with confusion for a moment before he blinks long lashes a few times and smiles a bit. 

“Well howdy there,” Stiles greets, naturally, in a blue flannel and denim, adorned with a hat on his head to block the sun- Scott had never seen him so casual. “What’s brought ya here McCall?”

“I uhm… About Allison-” Scott watches Stiles face immediately fall and he turns back to his work. “Listen I know you must think I’m trying to hurt her-”

“It’s you I’m worried for, not about,” Stiles corrects. “I know Allison can be cruel and I don’t want her to be playing games with you or Isaac. I don’t want her to fool herself, i don’t want either of you to fall into that sort of trouble,” Stiles reitterates, giving Scott a pointed look. “You know it’s ain’t hard to fall into that kind of trouble.”

“Of course… I understand but… Listen she’s just really been torn to pieces-”

“And where is she now?”

“I’m sorry,” Scott immediately apologizes and Stiles softens.

“No I shouldn’t have snapped like that, I’m sorry. It’s not your fault… I’m just a little unnerved, that’s all.”

“Oh uhm… I guess it’s okay,” Scott tries to sooth but he really doesn’t know what to say at all. He’s left staring at Stiles who’s gone back to what he was doing before and really- he’s not sure what to say to him or about any of this, really, not about Stiles quick to apologize attitute or Allison’s demise since the fight. He really doesn’t know what to do. “Can I fix this at all?”

“Scott, you’re a good man, but really, just stay where you’re meant to stay and don’t toss yourself into the war of two sides.”

“I don’t think I understand.”

“The world works in wicked ways- sometimes people fight and a third party really just can’t get involved,” Stiles explains. 

“I believe I understand,” Scott says, nodding and Stiles smiles a bit. 

“Good, now help me finish then we can go inside for lunch.” 

  
  


Allison tosses the knife and it lands straight on the bullseyes, she spins and tosses another knife at another target and it hits. Of course it hits, because she was trained to never miss. She’s in nothing but a slim yellow dress that has no sleeves, she’s practically dancing about the ring as she throws weapon after weapon. She honestly couldn’t believe how ridiculous and shallow she is to have said what she said but she stands by her statement. See, that was the thing about her and Stiles, they never knew when to let up, they would be brutal and never retract from their brutality, they got what they wanted and when they clashed- it was a matter of who was less stubborn than the other, who was williing to lose the fight. Of course, it’s hard to lose a battle against the person who you fight the war with, but one of them has to let up eventually- Allison has a feeling it isn’t going to be Stiles this time around. 

Lydia had spoken to her, said he’d gotten ‘quite sick’ that night in her sing songy, soft natured voice and seemed captivated by concern for him. Of course, Allison didn’t know what really happened, Lydia didn’t go into much detail and Allison didn’t bother to ask, it would only rot her with guilt if she knew how bad of a condition he’d been in, really. Allison recalls Lydia also talking about their relentless engagement planning and how excited she is for it and how excited she is for the party the upcoming friday because some of her friends from the north are coming. Allison was happy for her really, but her stomach still knotted knowing Stiles might be miserable behind his masquerade, that he’s so convincing even she forgets how utterly  _ human  _ and  _ fragile  _ he tends to be, especially when things pile up the way they have been. 

Allison hacks another sword through another board and collapses on the floor of exhaustion, she hikes her dress up her legs, hot and sweaty from her rigorous work out, the one she’d been up to hours before. She falls gently to her back, her breasts straining against the hem of the corset bound top, and allison reaches and undoes the laces, her chest falling free as she breathes heavy, the cool air tingling on the valley between her breasts, drying the disgusting amount of sweat that lay there, Allison reaches a hand and pulls her hair off her neck, and then clutches her stomach. She’s in dire need of water, dire need of Stiles to talk to, dire need of fixing things, dire need of Scott McCall, but she doesn’t pursue any of her needs, rather she just lays there. Simply lays there, on the cold tile floor with her corset undone and slipping down her body with every breath she takes, her breasts free to the cold air by now and she doesn’t care at all. She could lay there forever and be okay. 

  
  


Lydia is over later that night, sitting with Stiles and he’s writing up court papers. She’s watching him do his thing and she finds that she’s immensely fascinated. “You’re really good at this,” she points out.

“Well I didn’t go to harvard for nothin, now did I Miss Martin?” 

“No I guess you did not.”

He gives her a pointed look and she shrugs innocently with a forgiving smile and he shakes his head, hiding the smiles he returns by tilting his head away from her before she can see. He continues working as they do, Lydia’s mother bursting in with his own. 

“And what do I imagine you two are doing?” She announces and Stiles looks up. 

“Nothing really,” he answers casually, leaning back. 

“Oh really? What is that you’re writing?”

“My evidence and claims.”

“Against my husband?”

“Obviously.”

“You’re a dirty bastard.”

“He’s just doing his job Mama, he doesn’t mean any harm,” Lydia cuts in softly and Natalie rolls her eyes. 

“Now you keep out of this! You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“She’s not wrong.”

“So now this is who you protect? That’s your father, you’re a dirty rat, just like that southerner-” Natalie begins to yell when Stiles stands abruptly, catching the woman by surprise, her face going blank with fear, mouth partially open, ready to please, her pointed finger at stiles drops and she steps back.

“She doesn’t know a single damn thing, ya heard? She didn’t know nothin then and she don’t know nothin now. You don’t have any right coming into  _ my  _ house and start pointing fingers at me. You’re as dirty as they come, Lydia did nothing wrong.” 

“And you’re just an innocent angel.”

“I’m nothin but a person that does what he has to. I’ve done nothin wrong.”

“Right and my daughter defends strange men out of the blue- You made her.”

“He didn’t make me do anything!” Lydia pleads. 

“Lydia Martin,” Natalie scolds, giving her a warning look and Lydia sinks back into her chair, the tears catching in her throat. “I think we should go and talk at home.”

“I-” Lydia starts before nodding feebly and Stiles eyes narrow. 

“Why?” he asks Natalie and she raises an inquring eyebrow. “Why can’t you talk here?”

“Because I want to talk to my daughter at home, do you have a problem with that?”

“Stiles its okay,” Lydia whispers. “Can I at least have a moment alone to say goodbye?”

“Fine,” Natalie agrees and leaves, they wait until the door is shut and she’s gone.

“Why’d you defend me?” Lydia asks, grasping at her green dress slightly, the skirts drifting along her legs as she sways a bit. 

“Defend you? Oh no, I wasn’t about to be taken down in the likes of you, your mother has a very bad perception of things,” he says casually avoiding eye contact. 

“You were defending me.”

“I was defending myself.”

“If you say so. I’m still going to thank you.”

“Well it wouldn’t be appropiate to say your welcome,” he mumbles and she laughs and kisses his cheek and he smiles a bit. “Are you goin to be okay at home? I could go talk to momma…” Stiles whispers and she shakes her head. 

“She’d only hit me a few times before, she’ll probably just yell me to tears.”

“That’s no better than a hit Lydia.”

“I’ll be fine, nothing I’m not used to.”

“That shouldn’t be the truth.”

“I’m okay.”

“I wish I could believe you.”

“I say that about you everyday, ironically,” Lydia teases and they smile softly at each other. “I gotta go.”

“Please, come back if anything happens?” stiles whispers and she nods quickly before scurrying off with her shiny silk heels and her green dress, her petticoat hugging her arms as she gets away from the room and rushes on downstairs- he hears her trip somewhere on the way down and smiles to himself. Then he proceeds to head down to his Nana’s room where she’s reading the paper on the bed. 

“Miezech,” she greets. “It’s nice to see you.”

“I think Lydia’s mom is going to do something to her.”

“What?”

“We were just talking and she bursts in and starts yelling all these obscenities and trashing her good name.”

“My god.”

“Then she demanded they go home.”

“I see.”

“Please go check on her in the morning.”

“You’re worried.”

“As anybody would be, of course.”

“Right… as anybody would be,” she repeats in a soothing voice. “I’ll go in the morning. I promise.”

“Thank you Nana.”

“Anything for you my dearest.” She smiles and he smiles weakly back.

 

Lydia gets home and her mother is tugging her in by the hair, literally, she throws Lydia to the floor and shoves her aside. “What do you know? What’s he planning to do to us?”

“Nothing mama!” 

“You’re a liar!” Her mother slurs and Lydia backs away in fear, trying to fix her hair. 

“Mama you’re drunk! Just calm down!” She pleads. 

“Drunk! I’m the one that drunk?” she says without thinking. “Listen you bastard child, tell me what he said to you!” 

“Nothing! He’s not been saying anything to me I swear! I swear to god! I promise, he’s not planning anything, I haven’t told him anything! Mama please! Mama please…!” 

 

Lydia sneaks out very late that evening, it must be at least two in the morning and to her good fortune Stiles is still awake in his little library, he has tea set before him. He looks up with big, tired eyes and immediately moves to her. 

“Lydia… what on earth happened to you?” He whispers, taking her into his arms and she muffles a sob in his chest, taking the lapels of his jacket into her small hands, shaking her head fervidly, his large hands searching the plain of her back as he pulls her closer. “It’s okay… Lydia it’s  _ okay. _ ” 


	16. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stydia fluff and stitching and stydia banter ish  
> that's it, that's all

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a longer chapter, but at what cost? (me doing my interior design sketches, that's what) ANYWAYS ENJOY THERE'S SOME STITCHING THAT GOES DOWN  
> ALSO SHOUT OUT TO LIZZY FOR FOLLOWING ME ON TUMBLR- THE REAL MVP THERE (my tumblr is allineedcd, i post all my updates there and sometimes I talk about this fic, it's a good time)

Stiles brings Lydia downstairs to the kitchen to clean up her cuts and bruises, he’s careful not to wake anyone or make too much of a ruckus, filling a ceramic, blue bowl with water as he sits before her. Gently turning her face, he starts to clean around her cheek, a cut tearing along the bone. “It’ll leave a scar, but there’s nothin T’any can’t fix. She’s got all sorts of magic tricks, you’ll be lookin good as new in no time- heal the cut and close the scar too.”  
“Think it’ll be gone before the engagement?”  
“For sure? If anybody asks, you don tell em you tripped outside and got caught by a branch. Whipped right in the face. Don’t go and tell em anything about your mama, it’ll bite ya later on.”  
Lydia nods slowly, letting him do his work as he continues to clean her up. Once he’s done with her face, she shows him another cut on her arm, it’s deeper, cut into the tissue and he winces a bit. “Lord, you might need a doctor to stitch it tomorrow,” he mumbles.  
“Stiles? Who you be talkin to in there?” Kasia calls as she enters the kitchen and stops at the table, looking at the cut on Lydia’s arm. “Well lord, didn’t you think to wake somebody?”   
“I didn’t know she had a cut that deep, I was just gon wrap it-”  
“Go wake your mother and we’ll get the doctor to come see her now.”  
“Now? Well jeezus, the man is probably sleepin, nana!”   
“Oh forget his sleep, go get me a needle and a thread!” His nana waves her hand in the air and Stiles rushes to T’any’s small office and grabs the sewing kit she leaves in their, rushing back before T’any can wake up in the bedroom behind another door in the room, it was really like her own little house. But that was besides the point, he returns and puts the kit down and his nana takes the needle out and goes to run it at the edge of a candles flame then threads it. Stiles sits on Lydia’s right side where her arm isn’t bleeding just in case she needed him and his nana sits back down, undoes the cloth clasp and stiles holds the folds of her skin together as his Nana runs the needle through and starts threading the cut together. Stiles watches as the skin mends together with a black thread holding it together. Lydia is gripping his arm in a deadly grasp, heaving as she tries not to focus on the needle inside her skin, and really it didn’t hurt as much as she thought it would, it wasn’t so bad but it was deep and it stung to have a hot needle in your skin- she was still hiccuping from crying in Stiles arms before and she thinks that she use his reassuring grasp and whispered praises again- she likes how tired he sounds and she likes how is lanky arms wrap around her, his large hands on the expanse of her back. It was reassuring, it was warm and comforting. She likes how he can grip his arm and how he’s there even if he claims that he wouldn’t want to be.  
Though it’s over sooner than she thinks and Lydia is still clinging to Stiles and whimpering, ,Kasia looks to him and smiles, Stiles smiles back before pushing Lydia’s hair out of her face. “Nana go back to bed, I can take good care of her.”  
“I trust you. Clean up the blood, be gentle,” his nana assures, getting up to get him another checkered cloth and he nods. She kisses his head then grabs a glass of water before returning to bed, Stiles is gently dabbing at Lydia’s skin carefully to rid of the excess blood. “Oh how will I ever be able to go to my own engagement,” she whimpers and Stiles laughs softly.  
“That’s the least of your worries Lydia. How will you ever go home?”  
“The same way I always did.”  
“Does she do this often?”  
“No she really doesn’t.”   
“You’re handling it well.”  
“I have first hand experience.”  
“Oh?”   
“It’s a long story.”  
“Do you want to talk about it?” He asks, moving her off him very carefully, as if she were made of glass- too fragile to touch- and then grabs the water and the cloth and takes it to the sink. He goes to clean the needle and puts the kit away before T’any ran in here and gave him a whipping, or saw the bloody needle at some point and started yelling her head off about it. So he puts it away in its oak wood drawer with the intricate design on it and shuts it very carefully, making sure to wipe the shiny knob before returning and closing the door that lead to her ‘apartment’ and moving back to Lydia.   
“Can you stay with me?” She asks feebly and he doesn’t really know what to say.  
“I wasn’t planning on leaving…”   
“I wanted to lay down,” she mends. “Can you stay with me.”  
“I… uhm… sure,” he mumbles. He was just going to put her in a bed and stay in the room, that was all, right? Of course. Stiles squats down a bit and he picks Lydia up from the chair, and she squeals softly, hiding in his neck as she’s picked up, her good arm wrapping around him for support. “Bed or couch?”  
“Bed,” Lydia affirms and she watches as they make it up red carpeted stairs to a big wooden door that leads to a big intricate room.   
“It’s a bit small, sorry about that,” Stiles apologizes and Lydia looks up at him bewildered. “Well, I suppose your whole house is a bit small, but this would do right?”  
“Of course,” she whispers, holding onto his jacket and watches him with soft eyes. He goes to put her down on the bed, lowering her and she moves to remove her arm but ends up yanking him down with her on the golden brown sheets that were plush and soft as a cloud. Stiles’ cheeks turn pink as he falls onto of her, right into her stomach really, but they both laugh a bit awkwardly at the situation and he moves her arm out of the way, picking it up and laying it on the bed and she scooches over a bit and pats the duvet, rubbing it a bit. “Sit with me,” she invites in a kittenish voice, her face pure as day as she looks up at him and he rolls his eyes, his whiskey orbs filled with question and she giggles.   
“I’m not planning anything,” she assures. “I just want company.”   
Stiles sighs and gives into her innocent sway, removing his black suit jacket, he joins her on the bed and relaxes into one pillow, Lydia feeling lonelier on her side decides he looks very comfortable and that she wants to be comfortable with him. So she scooches over, her dress dragging along with her, the ends catching a bit, causing her to raise her hips to lift the dress and move closer to him, leaning up against his frame, her dress blanketing across his legs, she leans her soiled cheek against him and practically purrs into his warmth.  
“I still want to know about what you said before- I mean… I’m not pushing you or anything, I just want to know.”  
“About Jackson?”  
“Who’s Jackson?”  
“Just a man I used to know,” she assures. “I don’t want to talk about bad things,” she says, peering up at him and his brows furrow but he nods and she yawns, leaning into his frame. “It’s late.”  
“You’re right.”  
“Why were you awake?”  
“Just by chance I suppose.”  
“That’s not an answer.”  
“I was working, that’s all.”  
“On what.”  
“Explicit porn,” he lies and she giggles at that, cuddling him.  
“You’re dripping sarcasm more than you are semen.”  
“That’s an inappropiate statement.”  
“You just told me you were reading explicit porn.”  
“So you’ve brought up a good point,” he agrees, yawning as his head droops to lean on hers, Lydia’s hand curling into the material of his button up shirt, the soft white one with the light brown buttons- one that she noticed he wore often and she wondered if out of laziness or the fact that he had more than one or maybe he just liked it a lot. Though she clings to him and her eyes droop shut lazily, long lashes batted against her skin, a smile on her lips and Stiles was so sure he was just watching over her but his eyes droop shut before he can stop them, and he’s asleep long before he could stop it from taking over him.   
Lydia peeks her eyes open for just a moment more, looking at his very peaceful face with droopy cheeks that are hollow and edged with sharp cheekbones, washed, clean hair that curls at the ends and she notices his lips are a nice red color, full of blood and in his sleeping state, she gently presses a kiss goodnight to the corner of his lips before falling asleep in his arms. God she was a fool for him, Lord was she going to fall hard for this boy, hitting the ground might kill her, but she thought, maybe he’d catch her before she hit the ground. 

Stiles wakes up just as the sun is rising, his brown eyes fluttering as he squints at the room, trying to get a sense of where he is in the dark room and to his horrified realization he’s not in his room. Though just as that realization happens he realizes he fell asleep with Lydia, who was peacefully breathing and resting against his chest and his body, curled in on him. He carefully moves her off of him and after hesitating for a second he kisses her head softly.   
Stiles then moves down the hall and around the corner to his own room, quietly opening the door and then shutting it behind him, locking the door, he strips of his shirt then leaves on his tight dress pants and crawls under his own fluffy red covers, resting his head on the pillow, inhaling softly and falling asleep- greeted with dreams of Lydia Martin (kissing Lydia Martin) and to his happiness, he’s forgotten all about it when the bells ring and Brett comes knocking at the door to wake him.  
Though Stiles doesn’t want to wake up, he wants to stay in bed and sleep a few more hours. “Thirty minutes!” he calls.   
“M’lord you have to get up!” Brett calls through the door, which to his displeasure, is locked. “Lets go before you miss breakfast!”   
“Oh wake the rest of the damn house first!” Stiles yells, rolling over and covering his ears. “I’ll make my own damn breakfast.”  
“Oh get up!” Brett pleads, knocking on the door and when Stiles doesn’t answer, he uses the key to the door that he had and unlocks it, pushing the door open, then grabbing the tray of ice water (to drink) and warm water (to shave with) before entering. He places the tray down and Stiles sits up.  
“You can’t give me a break can you? You know I’m in charge of you, right?”  
“No you’re not, your parents and the butler are. They say to wake you up at 8.15 AM promptly every day unless otherwise spoken to. It is now 8.25 AM according to your clock and you’re going to be late to your job.”  
“Oh it’s gonna be alright, Brett,” Stiles assures as he gets up. “Go get a maid for Lydia and I’ll shave myself, I am a big boy you know,” Stiles teases and Brett shakes his head, smirking at the other boy.   
“Lydia stayed the night?”  
“Yeah, she did.”  
“Alright then, I’ll see to it that she’s situated,” Brett promises and Stiles nods appreciatively. 

Once down to breakfast, Stiles there prior to Lydia, his nana looks up at him.   
“What happened?” She asked. “Is she alright?”  
“Oh she’s just fine, I got her a room and went straight to bed not long after you.”  
“That so?” Kasia cooes. “Well where is she?”  
“I sent Brett to find her a maid, they’re probably just cleaning her up or somethin, Nanny.”  
“What happened?” John asks and Stiles shrugs.  
“I don’t really know, she just came over bleedin and cryin with all these cuts. Said her mama was drunk. Used something to cut her or maybe threw glass, I don’t know.”   
“You didn’t ask?”  
“She didn’t want to talk about it.”  
“I see.” John nods and Stiles spreads butter on the toast that is a precursor to the flapjacks being cooked on the burner by T’any’s girl.   
“Now don’t you forget that Stiles and John get 8 flapjacks and Kasper gets 4 and another piece of toast with milk, and the girls all get 3 with oatmeal!” T’any calls as she brings her butchering axe with her as she approaches her door to her apartment. “Turkey sound good for dinner?”  
“Mighty fine, T’any,” John assures. “Did I tell you mother was comin home?”  
T’any scoffs. “That devil woman, I hope she chokes on my food.”  
“Lord, why’s gram comin home?” Stiles asks and John looks at the table of unhappy faces.  
“Momma isn’t that bad,” he defends and Claudia shakes her head, peeling another orange slice from her orange.  
“John my dear, I love you, a lot but even I can admit your mother is the devil's work,” Claudia mumbles. Stiles laughs at the look on his father's face.   
“Well she’s comin for the engagement party,” he announces and they all disregard.   
“So really, nothing else happened?” Kasia asks and Stiles shakes his head- he doesn’t mention (not in his wildest dreams dare think of mentioning) that he fell asleep in the bed with her, or that they had talked a bit before they slept, or that he could faintly recall dreaming after falling asleep that she had kissed him (but not to his knowledge does he know that she really had).   
“Really, nothing. I just made sure she made it to bed then went to my own,” he says casually, looking up as he finishes biting into the piece of buttered toast and shrugging with the toast in his hand. Charlotte puts coffee in front of Stiles and John before rushing off to finish the pancakes, another little helper girl placing tea before them.   
Lydia walks down in a plain yellow dress with a black collar, sleeves that have a lace cuff to them, flowing about her hand, and buttons over the petticoat that covered the corset black like the collar. She looked beautiful, her damp hair pulled to the side, curling as it dried. She seems shy, taking small strided steps as she enters the room and Stiles doesn’t seem to notice her as he’s engulfed in looking over an article his grandmother showed him, eyes glazing it over with interest and Kasia smiles up at her.   
“Oh you’re face is looking much better already.”  
“You think so?”  
“Of course I do! Look, the cut is smaller, I swear.”   
Lydia nods assured and her eyes land on Stiles and she notices that he’s yet to look up and Kasia glances over at him then back to longing girl and she pushes her forward a bit, casually of course, as she sits, Lydia stumbles a bit and Stiles turns to catch her before she can fall on him, her eyes wide and his irritated features melt into a knowing smile, sending a look to his nana who plays innocent as she sips her tea.   
“Keen senses,” he tells her as she looks at him in scared question, her head nodding slowly.  
“Very keen.”  
“That and I saw you from the corner of my eye.”  
“And not even a good morning yet.”  
“I wasn’t planning on it, really.”  
“Planning on what?”  
“Saying good morning to you,” he says as if it’s obvious and her eyes narrow a bit but gives a knowing smile. She knows what he’s doing, she knows that indifferent smile, the look in his eyes- he’s covering up, he wants to pretend it never happened at all, that there was nothing between them and he wasn’t asleep with her in bed just a few mere hours ago.   
“Of course, why would I expect you to be mannerly towards such a heathen like myself,” she teases and he laughs.   
“I’m so glad you finally understand!”   
“Yeah, me too,” she mumbles, taking a seat next to Claudia who’s giggling at the two of them.   
Odette strides in just then and kisses her pop-pop, father, mother and older brother on the head before taking a seat beside Stiles. “Good morning,” she chirps happily. “I have a lunch date today with Liam Dunbar,” she announces proudly and John frowns a bit disapprovingly.   
“You don’t have to see men so early, Odette.”  
“Oh father, you’re just sad I’m growing up,” she chirps, giggling. “Oh hello Lydia! I’m so sorry, I haven’t seen you, were you here last night? Oh you must’ve been, he’s wonderful comapny isn’t he?” She asks, gesturing to Stiles who nods at her, smiling.  
“The best of,” he teases and she giggles and Lydia smiles, feeling more welcome at their breakfast table in the kitchen than she ever did in her own home.   
“Oh yes of course, he’s a great conversationalist.”  
“Of course he is.”  
They share a smile before returning to breakfast as it is served. 

 

Friday comes soon. Lydia had not left the Stilinski household, and Claudia denied Natalie Martin any access to her daughter she could have possibly had, she even makes sure that it’s in place that she is denied entry to the party that friday in the Argent household.   
Allison does visit them and she apologizes to Stiles, who did not seem very easily swayed but shrugs and rolls his eyes at the notion of accepting her apology, and she leans against him and bats her eyes and makes him laugh and suddenly they’re best friends again. Lydia takes vervid notes.  
But now it is friday afternoon and Lydia is lounging on a library couch, reading a book (that she heard Stiles note to be his favorite when he saw her pick it up but then return it, she immediately picked it back up and he laughed at her, called her ridiculous then went back to work). Flipping the page, she continues to skim the words on the page until she’s done with the chapter. She marks her page and shuts the book, the room is otherwise empty, Athena sitting on Stiles desk comfortably. Lydia thinks for a moment with the book to her chest and for a second, she indulges in the idea of Stiles kissing her, full on the lips, his hands pressed against her corset, just over her ribs and just under her breasts, then continues to indulge in the idea of how nice his tongue might be against hers, or how soft his hair is, that is until the door opens and she sits up to see Stiles enter, to her surprise.   
“You’re home early,” she notes.  
“Early? How would you know?” he teases, dropping his suitcase off against the first shelf by the door and looks to the watch. “I was just going to drop some things off and get ready. Have you been in here all day?”   
“Yeah I was… reading.”   
He nods, oblivious to her previous thoughts and stands to go, her breasts strained to her corset out of the excitement of her previous thoughts and they’re met in an awkward stance when he turns to meet her path, his eyes glancing down to notice in the expanse in her chest.   
“You alright there?” he prods with a teasing glint in his eyes and she can feel her cheeks going pink but shrugs.  
“Just fine. Why?” she asks innocently and avoids his eyes.  
“No reason, you just seem to be… unfocused.”   
“Well, I’m focused on something,” she comments and he gives her an utter look of disbelief, honey eyes full of judgement on the comment.   
“Surely you can wait until our wedding night, can’t you?”  
“That depends, can you contain yourself that long?”  
“I’ve waited nineteen years, I can wait another few months,” he promises and she wants to pout because she’s losing the battle but sticks her nose up and shakes her head.   
“We’ll see Stilinski. You can’t get off on pornographic books forever.”  
“If that’s what you want to call it.”  
They both scoff at the same time then send inquiring glances at each other, before disregarding each other and she moves to leave. Time to get dressed for a party.


	17. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's party time and boy can you smell the jealousy and dirty secrets in the air. (#dirty little secret.mp3)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! So I just wanted to let you guys know that I really, really do appreciate everything you say in the comments, all the kudo's I get, the people who like my chapter updates on tumblr, like it's great to know that there's a handful of you reading and constantly reading this! I know I... sound a little cocky about it sometimes but really, I don't think I've ever been so happy to post things. This fic doesn't feel like a chore, this is my zone, this is the kind of writing I do and it's really not writing that most people like- its writing that I thought people would read and think is boring. I thought I'd be boring all of you to death, really I did. I said to one of my friends "I don't know who would read this... it's kind of dense, but I like it. I think its interesting" And I'm glad so many of your agree, that you think it's interesting too. I think I'm constantly floored by people who like ANY of my writing, even the writing I did when I was like twelve for the disney/dreamworks fandom and people still comment "wow I love this!" and I cringe looking back at it. I don't think I've ever really been proud of my work, but I will say that I am really proud of this piece and a couple of my malec fics, that I have tremendously improved and I hope you guys continue to enjoy this fic! continue to read, I'll always appreciate it no matter what and just know that I love this fic and that you guys love it too.  
> SO THAT WAS TREMENDOUSLY SAPPY enjoy the chapter b's ~AME

Stiles doesn’t know why but as he stands at his closet, deciding on the colors he wants to wear, his mind wanders to this one morning when he was sixteen years old- he hadn’t been working then but he had been visiting home from school. He recalls standing there at the closet just like he is now, morning light streaming in from behind the curtains, the room a bit dusty for his lack of being there. He recalls rough, wiry arms wrapping around him and lips that were, in contrast to his own, rough, pressing to his neck, long hair tingling the back of his neck. He remembers the urgent feeling of getting rid of her, of rushing her out of there as soon as possible, though one thing lead to another, and she was out 10 minutes later than she should have been and he looked more wrecked than he should have been- that was before Brett worked for them and his Valet was the old man who used to work for his father (bless his soul, Stiles never felt too bad for his passing though)- so when the Valet walked in some thirty minutes later and Stiles was still standing at the wardrobe, half naked and all, he seemed a bit fishy- with the windows wide open, which was unlike him- and he just shrugged. ‘I got hot’ he said before picking out a bluey kind of shirt, but only a hued blue, not a real blue he recalls, and he had put it on.

Stiles glances through his shirts and remembers having to replace most of them, due to his growth spurt after that spring vacation, he no longer had that shirt and really, if he did he might have threw it out onto his balcony and burned it on the table right there and then- with no pretense or explanation, he officially hated that shirt. Though he’d never been caught, and surely he’d blocked out all memories again and would deny losing his virginity at all until the end of his days, Stiles wishes he could have told somebody. He hated her really, they were the kind of combination that contrasted too much. Not like a green and purple or a blue and orange but more like… a yellow and purple, where the yellow looked to bright to be next to the purple and the purple looked to graceful to be next to the yellow. He couldn’t ever recall being seen in public with her, at any party they were at different tables with different friends, and never once did he ask her to dance- or even mention her to his parents. They met in secret places or when their parents weren’t home or even in tavern rooms, hotel rooms, and they would go at it for _hours._

Stiles bites his lip as he recalls the morning they almost got caught, how she almost left too late and he recalls being broken up about it for a long time- learning to bury it down. He felt as if he had personally done himself wrong, that what he’d done shamed his family, what had happened was the worst he could do- that there was no justification to it, that he could have gotten in so much trouble. Stiles returned to school and he fixes himself, he changes, he pushes the memories down, he forgets it even happened and most of what he remembers is the cold front he gave her the summer he came home. He was a more religious person, he even attended confession in Massachusetts a few times but never once told another person, not anybody he knew and especially not Allison- what she would have thought of him (and how ironic, given their current situation). He didn’t like who he used to be, how weak he had always felt- and even the power she gave him over her, she always seemed to over power him- he changed himself. He became stronger, he became colder; he stood up for himself. Stiles took control of his life, and what with the Erica and all, he had been deemed cold and careful, he remembered hearing a comment in the church about “catching the cold of the north” but it wasn’t long that he was the talk of the town, it died out. He changed, and people needed his help, so they accepted it. Who else would they call? Old Man Stoker, when he was as old as the building they worked in?

Stiles snaps out of it when Brett walks in, standing up straighter and grabbing a white shirt to go with the black high waisted pants, that flourished just a tad at the ends. Brett raises an eyebrow but says nothing, he knows that Stiles likes to keep to himself, so he helps him undress then dresses him again, doing up his tie and fixing his newly ironed jacket.

“Well you look dashing,” Brett comments, watching him move to grab a watch and Stiles shrugs as if it means nothing to him.

“I suppose I should thank you for the compliment.”

“I’m agreeing with that statement. You should thank me.”

“Thank you for the compliment.”

“You’re welcome.”

Stiles smiles and Brett smiles back. “What were you thinking about before?” Brett asks casually and Stiles feels the guilt renew in his stomach and he wants to puke.

“Nothing,” he bites too quickly. “It was nothing,” he repeats more slowly and Brett seems perplexed, his blonde brows knit together in confusion but he nods with a weird kind of smile on his face.

“Okay Mr. Nothing. If you say so, but hey, remember we’re friends and I’m here if nothing means something.”

“I’ll try to remember that if you wake me up early tomorrow so I feel bad about murdering you.”

Brett laughs, pulls out a cigar and lights it. “Will do Mr. Nothing. Wiiill dooo oh Mr. Nothing,” he sings as he leaves the room.

“You’re a crazy bastard,” Stiles calls after him and  Brett bubbles with laughter, standing just at the door.

“And yet, here we are. You still pay me.” he huffs out smoke.

“I quite like you. Wanna come with me for a change?”

“What?”

“Well since we’re such close friends, why don’t you come with me?”

“Because that’s not how things are done. I’m a poor orphan nobody and you’re rich with parents somebody.”

“So? Girls _love_ pretty blonde orphan boys.”

“Cute,” Brett scoffs and Stiles smiles, nudging him.

“Come on, you should come with me. I mean it, really.”

“Not today,” Brett assures and Stiles smiles though he feels defeated.

“Next party you don’t have a damn choice, just so you know.”

Brett laughs and nods.

 

They get to the argent household and are sent to the ballroom. The grand room lined with tables and a large dance floor. There’s a dim, almost pinkish, lighting to the room and Stiles and Lydia walk in together- much to Malia Tate and Karen Rothmans dismay. Karen glances to Malia and says nothing, she doesn’t really know why Malia had a reborn interest in him- she used to talk about him all the time when they were 16 but she would never talk to him, nor had she ever talked about seeing outside of those parties, so she deemed it a passing fancy for him but suddenly Malia has taken an interest again.

Stiles smiles when Allison greets them, Scott approaching them with her and the two look married in a way. They’re smiling and laughing, the lights are twinkling, the music is playing, and across the way Lydia sees Jackson Whittemore standing there with her other old friends and her stomach flips and a bitter taste is left in her mouth.

“My friends are over there,” she muses airly, causing the other three to look at her. “I think I’ll go say hi,” she addresses but doesn’t move- she misses Jackson, no matter what he did to her, no matter how he abused her, she missed him. Though she’s afraid she’ll get caught in the tides to his shore again and really, she doesn’t want to.  Stiles was really so gentle when he wanted to be and she glances up at him as if asking his approval, though he’s already taken by conversation once again. She sighs and then goes to approach them, sliding over to her old group of friends and everybody, even Jackson is so happy to see her and an odd smiles approaches her features as she greets them.

“It’s been so long,” she says as she looks to Jackson, smiling at him and he smiles back.

“Yeah it has been, how has our favorite red head been?” he flirts and she smiles softly.

“Well the southerners haven’t been too brutal…” She mumbles, shrugging her shoulders, glancing over to see Stiles sat beside Karen Rothman, leaning against his chair and talking, majorly to her and Lydia feels an overwhelming jealousy captivate her. She doesn’t like how Karen looks at him, with flirtatious batted lashes, the way she leans forward into him.  Lydia puts on a charming smile for Jackson.

“Do any of you fine young men wanna dance?” She offers and Jackson steps forward, taking her by the hips and pulling her close to him, Stiles catching good wind of her giggling, attached to his hip and under his arm, he doesn’t know why but a burning feeling loops in his chest and he’s angry, angry that that guy was wrapping his arm around Lydia like that, making ~~_his_~~ Lydia laugh like that.

Lydia though is easily swayed over and finds herself dancing with Jackson, waltzing in his arms like she used to and she recalls the times before they got bad. She remembers the balls when she was fifteen, the way he would twirl her and make her laugh, how they felt like they could talk for hours. He was so beautiful then (and he’s so beautiful now) with his whiskey colored eyes and- she blinks up at Jackson and realizes his eyes are blazing blue, that he’s staring at her intently.

“What are you thinking about?”

“How nice things used to be,” she whispers, her mind almost forgetting completely about Stiles- _almost_. Jackson nods and tightens his grip on her waist and she wants to pull away but she doesn’t, what has she done?

“They can still be that way.”

“No they can’t… It’s in the past Jackson, I was just thinking, that’s all.”

“Well you think too much,” he sneers as the song changes and Lydia bites her tongue and smiles, shaking her head and shrugging feebly, looking over to see Stiles look up at her and she leans in a bit closer to Jackson, through her head back and giving him an award winning smile, and Lydia can’t see the jealousy he’s hiding but he does stand and invites Elizabeth Darcy for a dance. Lydia notices the way she giggles and saunters over to the dance floor with him.

Stiles pulls her close as the song slows and he’s whispering to her- god she hates the way he’s _whispering_ to her and she glances at Jackson as he sways with her and she feels her heart skip a beat, gripping his hand and shoulder tighter.

“Did you ever love me?” she asks and he seems interested.

“I still love you,’’ he charms and she nods, taken aback. “I’d do anything to take you back.” He leans in to kiss her but she turns from him.

“Not here, Jackson,” she mumbles, smiling up at him a bit.

 

Stiles hates him, he doesn’t like how he’s leaning in so close to her, he doesn’t like how low on her hips his hands seem to be- he doesn’t like the look that man is giving Lydia, he keeps thinking about how much he doesn’t like the other man with Lydia but he doesn’t know why. And he doesn’t really care to find out so he focuses on beautiful Elizabeth Darcy with her dimpled smile and her light brownish blonde hair, she’s charming too and he thinks that maybe he could have loved her but the thought draws his eyes to Lydia because… _he could_ **_love_ ** _her_ and that terrifies Stiles.

Though just as he twirls her, Allison walks up to him and tugs his sleep. “We’re making a witches brew in an hour,” she whispers. “Out by the lake in the back, get a little tipsy,” she invites and both nod, Isaac coming over to take Allison by the waist, swaying with her and she giggles. “Isaaaaac, come on lets go get a drink. Shall we?”

“Mmm we shall,” he cooes and Stiles rolls his eyes.

“Player,” he shoots at Allison and she sticks her tongue out at Stiles, who laughs at her, twirling Elizabeth and she giggles.

“Stiles lets go by Isaac, he’s precious,” she cooes and he nods the two going off to follow Allison and Isaac, Stiles tugging Scott along the way and they all are sat in the bar in the back, downing a few drinks and talking. They keep to themselves, they laugh, they talk, they have a good time and Stiles thinks that it’s just like old times, just like when he got home from Harvard. Stiles liked this, feeling youthful again, like he could laugh and flirt and be honest again. Then he looks over at Lydia and he sees that she isn’t having too good of a time- she seems… miserable almost, and he prods Allison who looks over and frowns before beaming.

“Lets invite them out with us!” Allison chirps and stiles nods, Allison pressing a martini glass to his lips and he drinks. They’re tipsy at best, laughing sultry and nearing on drunk. Allison pulls him over and she boldly introduces herself. “I’m Allison Argent and this is Stiles,” she greets and he nods in greeting. “We wanted to know if you want to join us by my lake, we were gonna get some fresh air.”

“We’d love to!” Lydia instantly agrees, standing and Stiles offers his hand to her and she links their hand, allowing her to lead them and the groups go outside and sit by the lake, but Lydia’s old friends tug her to the other side of the lake, so she can’t see what they’re doing.

 

Stiles and Allison take a bowl and pour a full bottle of Fireball Cinnamon Whiskey, a few spoons of honey and a bit of drops of vanilla. They mix it and pour it into cups and pass around. They’re all mingling, they’re all talking and Stiles is sitting beside Isaac at the lake, the two laughing hard- it’s all really a blur to them, as Stiles takes another drink he brings it to Lydia.

“Try it,” he insists and she giggles.

“You’re drunk,” she points out giggling.

“I’m not _that_ drunk, just really happy,” he insists, grinning. “Take it,” he pushes the glass towards her and she takes it.

“What is it?”

“It’s a drink. Drink it.”

“Wow, very descriptive.”

“Well, go on! Drink it!” he insists and she laughs again, taking a sip from the cup of the drink and coughs a bit, it’s _strong._

“Oh my! It tastes like pepper!”

“It’s _not_ pepper!" 

“What is it?” She whines, pouting up at him as he laughs.

“Want to know what it’s called?” he asks, leaning closer to her and she stands straighter, Jackson especially notices.

“What?”

“A witches brew,” he whispers and she gasps and tosses the drink in the crystal shot glass at his neck and he yelps, jumping back and they’re laughing.

“You’re a liar! It’s not called that!”

“It is, I swear!” He insist, pouring the rest on her and she squeals, She shoves him a bit and they’re both laughing, his whole party has joined them by now, they’re near the edge of the small ‘lake’ (it was more of a pool, really, it even had a clearing and chairs and everything) and Stiles pulls her closer and she glances towards the edge of the hole before pushing him into the water, and he falls in, for a moment he doesn’t surface and she panics but he pops out and scares him and she jumps back, squealing. Allison is cackling in Scott’s arms, her smile brighter than ever, lighting up the whole night. Stiles splashes Lydia and she giggles, stepping back.

“Well aren’t you going to join me?” he teases, resting at the edge.

“In the pool?” she asks, brows knitting together.

“Sure!” he looks up innocently at her and she shakes her head, stepping back so he can pull himself out. Most everyone except Jackson and a girl named Cora Hale stay there to watch them, Cora is smiling at the two, Jackson is not pleased with the attention she’s giving Stiles. Stiles gets up and he instantly hugs her in his sopping clothes, she giggles.

“You _are_ drunk.”

“And you’re _not._ You should drink more,” he slurs between laughter and she can’t help but giggle with him, leaning into his wet hug, the cold didn’t matter so much, she could be warm whenever.

“Get me another cup,” she offers and Allison is watching them.

“You should kiss her! I daaare you,” she cooes and Elizabeth Darcy gasps, holding Isaac’s arm, as if it’s the most scandalous thing she’s ever heard and Isaac is giggling with her and they’re sharing another drink together. Stiles takes her in his sopping, heavy clothes to refill her shot glass and she takes a sip than offers him one and he sips from her hand. She thinks its adorable how the drink doesn’t totally stay between his lips due to their unpracticed manner- she didn’t know how to feed someone, she’d never done something like this but he licks his lips and smiles anyways and they’re both giggling, almost shyly.

“I feel like I’m sixteen or maybe seventeen- the summer I got home from Harvard, we would do this all the time.”

“Oh really?” lydia cooes and he nods, and they stand and shes so close to him, she wonders if he really does want to kiss her but she thinks maybe it’s too soon. She’s the sober woman at a drunkards party and she doesn’t like it so she refills the glass and downs the drink and it’s sloppy and she feels Stiles lips suck the running juice from her cheek and she giggles, and it isn’t ten minutes before she’s just as high on the feeling as them. Jackson and Cora watching from the outside.

They’ve started their own dancing and Lydia is twirling endlessly in Stiles arms, giggling as she reaches a hand up to the heavens, as if trying to reach the stars, and when he stops they fall against each other and she’s clinging to him, she’s holding him very close and they smell like liquor and cinnamon and she swore this wasn’t the same world she woke up in this morning, they’re hazy eyes gazing brilliantly into the others and before they know it, they’re pressed together in a drunk kiss and her hands slip into his hair (it’s softer than she expects) and his lips are plush and soft and full, just as hers and he grips her waist and they kiss drunkenly like his- practiced mouth on practiced mouth, unpracticed with the lack of inhibition and Lydia would have sworn on her life they’re still spinning because at some point they end up against a tree, her back hitting the bark and she gasps, ,the two parting breathless.

They just stare at each other, wonderstruck with passion.

 

The night dwindles on and at some point they’ve built a bonfire, sitting around the warmth, Jackson and cora had long ago left from the outdoors. Lydia is leaning in Stiles arms, her head still rushing from their kiss and he seems tired now, as if the daze is wearing off and they’re humming a southern lullaby that she doesn’t know and Lydia swears this was the best night of her life. 

 

The next morning is a complete daze but it’s that night when Stiles is in his study that she sees him next and she sits down beside him and looks at him, with full memory of the previous night.

“What?” he asks, not looking up but she can see the smile that’s tugging his lips, he bits his bottom lip to stop it- the tactic doesn’t work.

“I wanted to talk about last night.”

“Last night?”

“We-”  
“Kissed,” he finishes. “What, did your lover have any complaints?” He muses, looking up at her with a playful accusation.

“Lover?” she asks confused before she catches on. “Oh Jackson! I told you, Jackson isn’t a fond memory. I was trying to make you jealous,” she whispers and he seems taken aback.

“Jealous?”

“I think it worked.”

“Why?”

“We kissed.”

“Maybe I just like kissing girls while drunk.”

“Why would anybody want to do that?”

“For a few minutes, it feels like your madly in love,” he whispers and they’re leaning closer to each other.

“What if kissing me sober gives the same feeling?”

“I knew you couldn’t wait until our wedding night.”

“I can too wait!”

Lydia sits back and straightens up and he laughs at how quick she adjusts in her seat. “I can wait,” she repeats. “I’m a good girl.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it."

"What was in that drink? It made me feel kind of loopy.”

“Cinnamon gives a nice intoxicated feeling. That’s why we call it witches brew, you feel like you’re flying when you’re just the right amount of intoxicated.”

“How did you discover it?”

“I don’t remember to be honest.” he laughs a bit and shrugs and she nods.

“So…”

“So?”

“What can I expect from you now?”

“Nothing different,” he whispers. “I won’t be kissin you or anything every chance I get.”

“Oh?”

“And I won’t let up on calling you names.”

“Because you were drunk and you regret it?” Lydia asks defensively, suddenly insecure.

“What? No,” Stiles replies laughing. “Because I think it’s fun to banter with somebody who can take the banter- I thought you finally got it?”

“Oh… right,” she nods. “I’m just-”

“Hey,” Stiles stops her and takes one of her hands. “Remember when I said I want us to be happy?”

“Yeah?”

“My mother said you become friends before you become lovers. I might have kissed you drunk but sometimes friends kiss when they’re drunk- doesn’t mean you wake up the next mornin and start kissin them everytime you see each other…” he pauses. “I had fun with you- what with the pool and the throwing drinks at each other and all. It was fun. You know I don’t… I don’t like- you’re not my least favorite person, let’s put it like that.”

Lydia laughs and runs a hand through his hair casually, leans in really close and his eyes are blown wide, he’s startled and she can tell, scared almost. “You like me,” she whispers. “Admit it.”

“Not in your wildest dream, Northern belle.”


	18. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "spreading their petals in mute daylight when morn breaks it's radiance, keeping a floral festival, till the night- loving primrose wakes-" Ah! May the Red Rose Live Alway!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I bruised my elbow writing this many pages- it's thirteen pages long I think

It was Sunday morning just after church and Stiles was standing in the front, talking to his father about perhaps taking Lydia to the theater with them that night. “I think she’d like it- don’t she seem like the kind of girl to like the theater?”

“Well I suppose you’re right,” his father agrees. “It’s a real good play, I’ve heard and in german too. It’s called Robert and Bertram.”

“Oh I’ve heard of that! Of course, who’s going to watch Jack and Caden? Odette is goin out tonight with her girl friends.”

“Where are they going?”

“There’s a fair in the county over, i believe. Victoria Argent and Lucy Gallagher's mother will be chaperoning.”

“She’s grown already, I can’t even believe it. I still think  _ you’re  _ sixteen,” John states and laughs shaking his head, glancing about. “I heard Lydia’s friends were in town, I done saw them last night but I didn’t see them this mornin. Any clue where they might be?”

“No idea, but Lydia didn’t seem all too happy with em. I guess she got a taste of a better life, they’re all pricks anyhow, except that girl Cora- she’s somewhere walkin with Lydia right now. She seemed sweet as honey suckles, really.” 

“That so? Well perhaps we should invite her over, for Lydia’s sake. Y’all know where they’ve gotten to?”

“No idea. Last I saw of Lydia was in the pew and then she disappeared when we left, bumped right into the poor girl. Shy, really, and dainty. Looks about our age.” 

“That’s good, then she still has a friend- doesn’t she?”

“I’m glad she does. Her mother was here, though I think she’s since left.”

“When’s the trial for Francis, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Stiles shrugs. “They’re finding all sorts of information and I’m trying to convince them that I only want a trial on the land he took in this county.”

“Right,” John agrees, nodding at his son. “Are you going down to Halifax tomorrow to talk to them again?”

“Yeah I have an appointment with the administration. Although, our village is part of Luneberg, they want it to be a state case, not a local case.”

“Are you still appointed to it?”

“Of course I am,” Stiles practically chirps, smiling with a bit of pride and John laughs at his son.

“You’ve grown to be a good man, I’m proud of you.”

Stiles beams and he fidgets, not sure what to do with that information. “Thank you,” he says and John nods as Claudia approaches them, the boys trailing behind her. 

“What’s going on here?”

“We were just talking about the show tonight. Have you seen Lydia mama?” Stiles asks and she shakes her head.

“No I haven’t seen her at all.” 

Stiles nods. “I’m going to go look for her and Odette, I’ll be right back,” he promises and goes off to find Lydia, who’s by a large hickory tree with Allison and that girl Cora Hale. “Lydia we were goin home, did you want to meet us there?” 

Lydia looks up and shakes her head. “No, not at all, I’ll go with you now.”

Stiles nods and smiles at Cora. “It was lovely meeting you miss, would you mind if I invited myself over to meet you and your friends say 2 o’clock today? I wanted to give you all a formal invitation to my garden party next saturday.”

“Oh I’m sure they’d like that,” Cora agrees, smiling at him happily and he smiles back, Allison nudging him and he smiles, kissing Allison’s head. 

“Don’t cause too much trouble,” he warns her and she nods. 

“And you don’t get into any fights,” she whispers teasingly and he gives her an off chance of a side glance, a warning in his eyes before he rolls them. 

“Whatever you say, Ally,” he replies before offering his hand to Lydia, who laces their fingers and lets him lead her back to his family, where they were patiently waiting with his grandparents and Odette now. 

“I think I’ll stay in town since in about an hour and a half I have to go down to the hotel to see Lydia’s friends and invite them to the party next week. I’ll check on Stoker in his apartment above the office, see if the old man is still breathing or somethin. Send the carriage to the hotel by three?”

“Aye, alright, be safe son,” John agrees and Lydia clings to his arm.

“Can I stay with you?” She asks. “I’ll be awfully bored with nothing to do at all. And perhaps you’d like some company.”

“That so?” He asks in a kindly manner, smirking in amusement and she nods innocently, blinking up at him with an innocent, pouty expression and he shrugs. “If you want. We can walk down, come on.” He bids his family goodbye and Lydia follows him out of the church grounds onto the gravel path with grassy edges, a nice beige color as they walk. There’s fences that line that road, the kind that were dowers in the ground with two other dowers and some mesh wire- farmer fences, not picket fences, as they walked, side by side, under large oak and hickory trees. She looks up at them and smiles, watching the clouds. 

She looks over and she can see a small smile on his face, watching everything around him, gazing at the birds in the trees. “What are you thinking of?” Lydia asks him and Stiles shrugs. 

“How nice it is for October…” Stiles goes quiet for a moment and then laughs to himself. “It’s kinda strange ta think that I’m proposing to you next week. Like I know we’re engaged and we’re gettin hitched but I dunno, it’s strange. It’s like nothins real until then.”

“Real? What do you mean?

“It’s what the elder folk call childs play- you ain’t in a relationship unless y’all are married.”

“You’re talking like your grandmother. Your… lingo comes out when your relaxed, it’s really so cute.”

“What are you talkin about?”

“When you’re comfortable and relaxed, you start talking like your family does with all the y’alls and the accent and everything. Like, when you’re putting up a front you don’t talk like that.”

“I don’t?”

“You’ve never noticed?”

“I guess I’ve just adapted to when I have to be professional and when I don’t gotta be nothin.”

“And you don’t ‘gotta be nothin’ around me, huh?”

“Please never talk like that again,” he pleads. “Really, never do that again it was a little scary.”

Lydia giggles. “Well Y’all couldn’t’ve stopped me if ya wanted ta,” she teases in a higher pitched voice and he shakes his head slowly with pleading eyes, biting back laughter. “What? Y’er not swayed by my adoooorable lil accent?” 

“No, I’m really scared for my life,” Stiles jokes, his features breaking out into a grin and she laughs at him, lacing their hands and leaning into his body, Stiles easily accepts her presence there and holds her close to him, his arm around her small body, hands linked and they stumble a bit but are walking all the same. She smiles at how beautiful he is in the afternoon light, the way his cheekbones reflect in the sunlight with a glowing tenderness and she leans up to kiss his cheek.

“Have I ever told you I think you’re beautiful?” Lydia asks and Stiles smiles at her.

“You’ve mentioned. I am quite the sight for sore eyes, ain’t I?”

“Oh most definitely. Jackson lacks in comparison to you.”

“Who was he to you?”

“What do you mean?”

“Like… what was he to you? A lover… a friend… a courtier?”

“I… Well it’s complicated.”

“You can tell me, I’ll do my best not to judge you  _ too  _ much.”

“Is that so?” Lydia teases giggling.

“It is so,” he assures and looks down at her.

“That’s a conversation for another time.”

 

Soon the two reach the village and they parted from the other as not to cause talk by the people and they go to his office building, walking inside the rickety, washed out wooden stature, greeted by a hallway and a stairwell. 

“My office is the second floor and his apartment is the third,” Stiles informs her and she nods with understands. “Would you care to wait with me?”

“No I’d rather meet the man.”

“Alright,” Stiles agrees, shutting the large door, leaving them in almost complete darkness, had it not been the light coming from the window of the first landing of the stairs. Lydia follows him up, each step gives an eerie, jittering creek, her heels echoing within each step and though she’s terrified she might fall through them, with her hoop skirt just barely fitting through the narrow passage, Stiles walks with familiarity and a slow step to allow her to creek up.

She doesn’t say anything, just goes up the steps and all the landings to the apartment, Stiles doesn’t even knock before he enters. The apartment and Stiles listens for a second. 

“Maybe the ol bag finally kicked in the ol bucket- you think?” He muses and Lydia looks up at him with wide eyes.

“You think he’s dead?”

“I’m 97 years old, not deaf!” The man yells, slamming a door from somewhere in the house, the sound of a cane and creaking floorboards sounding as a heavy set man makes his way into the room, Stiles smirking with amusement. 

“Well the hell is it so quiet for Stoker? Thought you were dead.”

“Yeah I  _ heard.  _ Wish’d I was dead, you bastard.”

“I don’t wish you were dead, you’re just so old I thought maybe you just stopped wakin up."

The man scoffs at the comment. “If that were an option, I’d take it any day over livin in this dump of a place. America the great my ass,” he grumbles and Stiles seems shocked by the fowl use of language. Stoker looks to Lydia and seems confused. “Who the hell is she! Now don’t tell me you got married and didn’t invite me to your wedding.”

“Stoker we’re not married, she’s the girl I’m courtin to potentially marry. Ain’t that right Lydia?”

“Mmm really the love of my entire life,” Lydia plays along and the man cackles.

“Aye okay, sure y’all are really in love- so your parents finally set you up huh?” he asks pulling out a cigar and offering Stiles one and Stiles declines the offer. “Not even gonna smoke your own weed, shame.”

“How’d you know they set us up?”

“I know your mother pretty well- she was just as might fine as this girl here. The nice curves and some real meat on her even. She was beautiful- your mother. I remember her, used to always hang around here readin the books.”

“Why’s that?” Lydia asked, the man laughs.

“Said I reminded her of her daddy, met the old man and goody lord that man might as well been my own son. I ne’er told you bout this?”

“No sir, you want something to drink? You know the doctor said you shouldn’t be smokin,” Stiles advises and gets up to go put him something to drink anyways. The man hasn’t even lit the cigar yet, sitting down as he lets Stiles hand him a drink and he also takes the cigar away. 

Lydia moves to sit on a the long couch beside the man and settles there, though she’s quiet, watching Stiles pick things up, put books back, take glasses to the kitchen and leave them in the sink (she can tell from the clinking of the glass to the wash basin), he disappears into the rooms, perfecting the house. She even watches him blow some dust off the old piano and opens it. “Lydia, can you play?”

“No i’ve never learned.”

“Oh do play that song- what is it? The one about the red rose- the nice opera song?”

“May the red rose alway?” 

“Yes that one!” 

Stiles nods and sets his fingers on the piano, starting the chords on the piano, Lydia moving beside him to look at the lyrics and she listens to see if Stiles would come in with the cue to the lyrics and he does. 

**_(song link:_ ** [ **_https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a9x_2p88nN0_ ** ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a9x_2p88nN0) **_)_ **

_Ah may the red rose live always_ _  
__To smile upon the earth and sky!_ _  
__Why should the beautiful ever weep?_ _  
___Why should the beautiful ever die?

Lydia thinks that he has a beautiful voice and she wants to sing with him but she’d never heard the song before, and she wonders if he only knew it because the man had leant him the book. Unlike most children, Lydia had not been taught to be talented in music, and many children in the city didn’t- they thought it to be pointless but now she longs that she had listening to his beautiful voice, she wishes she could sing along with him. 

_Lending charm to ev’ry ray_ _  
__That falls on her cheek of life_ _  
__Giving the zephyr kiss for kiss_ _  
__And nursing the dew drop bright-_ _  
__Ah! May the red rose live always_ _  
__To smile upon the earth and sky!_ _  
__Why should the beautiful ever weep?_ _  
___Why should the beautiful ever die?

And so the song goes on, Lydia moving from beside him she goes to lounge against the couch and he plays for them, sings for them with his beautiful voice and skilled hands that knew the keys like second nature, and she lounges on the couch, with a book of interest in her hands- she is happy and she thinks, that she would always remember this day in a dream like memory, the kind that blurs in your head when you recall it. The daylight is so perfect in the room and his voice is so heavenly with the piano to match. The old man is giddy as ever and he enjoys the music and the company. She thinks that she’s happy that he’s happy because it didn’t sound like he was so happy when he entered but by the time it was time to leave, the man is joyful.

“So you’ll be at the engagement next weekend?” Stiles asks, the man giddy as he sips his drink.

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world son.”

“I’m glad, really, I’m glad.”  _   
_

Stiles and Lydia depart and walk to the hotel, she’s gleaming with a natural glow of happiness, her cheeks seem to shine and he likes it, the way she shines and her hair up in a braided bun has come apart slightly but just perfectly to frame her face and she doesn’t do anything to fix it anyways, her cream colored dress and hoop skirt seem to fit too perfectly, and they compliment her so beautiful with the embroidery on her chest that resembles a rose- just like her. She was a rose, a beautiful rose and he hoped she lived always, lived longer than he ever would- he wanted Lydia to see everything that earth had to offer because somebody as beautiful as Lydia deserved that much. Beautiful and broken, just like he was, though he would never acknowledge that he was either- he wore himself too well to admit he was anything but brilliant, he would never be able to admit to what he’d done nor that he was torn inside- Lydia knew better than that though. She saw through him. He liked that she did, that she understood him. 

“Do you know where the hotel is?” She asks, walking with him.

“There’s only one, unless they’re staying in a house?”

“No in the letter they said the village hotel.”

“Then that’s where we’re going.” 

Lydia nods and she notices their hands brush and he does too, her hesitance is his confidence and he laces their fingers, disregarding what anybody may think of them or it, he was proposing in a week- everybody would be over their  _ hand holding  _ by then and would be started on his wedding to a northerner, the daughter of a thief at that and by then hand holding wouldn’t be very relevant. 

Though it’s not ten minutes that they reach the hotel and get admitted to their suite, Jackson sitting on the couch, Cora opening the door and beaming. 

“Lydia! Mister Stilinski, it’s so nice to see you both.”

“Of course,” he agrees and Jackson sits up, looking over at them- why were they here? Why was  _ he  _ here? Jackson stands and puts on a charming face, approaching him with slow, tantilizing steps, that are alluring and he seems poised- oh so very poised- as he stretches his hand to Stiles.

“We were never properly introduced,” Jackson assesses. “I’m Jackson Whittemore, I’m from New York City, my father is a land owner.”

“Ah, pleasure to meet you Jackson, I’m Stiles Stilinski. Graduate of Harvard Law, town Lawyer and I’m inheriting the Dubrowsky estate.”

“Dubrowsky? You must be kidding, those are amongst the wealthiest people of the nation.”

“Those people are my family- the Stilinskis.”

“Well I suppose I should have paid attention.”

“I’d hope this changes nothing.”

“Oh nothing at all-” Jackson smiles, though he only hates the young man more than anything, especially when he sees that Lydia is holding his hand, and Stiles is holding right back, she even squeezes it for reassurance and Stiles squeezes right back, Lydia beams up at him before looking to Jackson.

“Hello Jackson,” she cooes and Cora watches, she can see the jealousy etched in his eyes. 

“Lydia,” he greets. “Don’t you two want to come in? I’m assuming he’s your new lover.”

“New lover?” Stiles asks.

“Oh well I used to court her back before she moved. Didn’t she tell you?”

“No she didn’t tell me much,” Stiles drawls in the same languid, dark voice as Jackson- they were playing the same game.. “Well Lydia and I won’t be long but Cora you’re welcome to join us for supper tomorrow if you’re free. Though I just wanted to invite you all to a party I’m hosting next Saturday, the twenty-fourth. It’s a garden party and I’d love for you all to come.”

“Oh we’ll be there,” Jackson assures. “Aren’t you going to come in?”

Lydia shrugs and nudges him in a bit, Stiles nods in agreement. “Sure, why not?”

“Oh I’ll have Tracey set the tea!” Cora chirps excited. “Lydia come with me!” 

Lydia giggles and follows the sweet girl, leaving Stiles and Jackson alone together. 

“So you and Lydia?” Jackson asks.

“Me and Lydia? What about us?” Stiles asks confused.

“Are you courting her or sleeping with her?”

“I’m courting her and I’m planning on proposing to her at the party,” Stiles whispers so he knows Lydia won’t hear, even if she already knows; he has to play his part. 

“Proposing?” Jackson queries before scoffing. “Oh you don’t want to do that.”

“And why not?”

“Don’t you know about her reputation?”

“I’m afraid I don’t and whatever it is, I’d think she’s past it. I don’t want to know.”

“She’s a dirty whore.”

“That girl’s sweet as peaches, she’s no whore.”

“Sleeps around all the time.”

“Never heard a man say it and trust me, word gets around quicker than lightening here.”

“You’re making a mistake.”

“You’re trying to take what you deem yours. She’s not your property and you may think that you planted some sort of claim on her but you’re wrong.”

“And what have you done for her?”

“More than you’ve done, probably.”

“I gave her everything.”

“I wouldn’t believe it unless she told me.”

“Didn’t you see us the night of the party?”

“Yeah I did, I also recall her leaving you the minute the chance arose,” Stiles smirks knowingly and Jackson is ready to hit him but Stiles moves away from him and paces about the hotel room, looking around. “I remember my Aunt Carol rented this room with me once just to see what it’s like to sleep in a hotel.”

“Why would you ever do that?”

“Experience. Which, I Imagine, you have none.”

“More than you. Smarter too.”

“What college did you go to?”

“What?”

“What college?”

“Kings. Placed 23’rd.”

“I was valedictorian at Harvard.”

“You’re a liar.”

“I’m not, I have the degree and the certificate if you want the proof.” 

“You’re just talking trash.”

“No really I’m serious.” 

“I don’t believe you.”

“I could  _ show  _ you, I really could,” Stiles says laughing at the other, Jackson turning red with anger. 

“If you were smart you wouldn’t be a dirty slave owner.”

“I’m not. The only slaves I ‘own’ are the ones that reside from my grandparents and thats a total of four people, we freed their children and all our black workers who still work on the plantation.”

“Why not the others, then? Where’s the mortality?’

“They were fine the way they were.” 

“I’m sure.”

“This is why things are so difficult- you think we’re all immoral idiots with no compass, but you know what? That’s really true. Most of our citizens are poor, they work so hard and y’all the north have it all, have all the money and the glory and the fame- even a middle class. Even you have it all or you don’t here, and there’s so few of us that have it all but you all pretend that’s not true.”

“Yeah because you’re all horrible people.”

“You’re the one jeering at me.”

“You’re the one walking around on a high horse.”

“Frankly, my horse doesn’t seem to be as tall as yours and the vast universe can’t seem to suffice to your large ego. Do you protect the conquered countries in africa too or is that rightly earned land?”

“And my horse is taller,” jackson sneers. 

“Oh stiles!” Lydia cooes from the kitchen. “Come meet my friend Danny, he’s… what’s that saying you say all the time? Sweet as apples?”

Stiles rolls his eyes and his breast expands with a soft chuckle. “It’s sweet as peaches Lydia, not apples.”

“Oh! Well, you knew what I meant, sweet as peaches, happy?”

“Happier,” he accepts and she walks over and takes him from Jackson. 

“What were you fighting about?” She whispers and he shrugs.

“He just thinks I think I’m something special.”

“Good, you are. OH DAAANNY! This is my courtier, Stiles!”

 

Stiles and Lydia get home and there is Natalie waiting in the drawing room with his parents and grandparents. Stiles looks defensive and she clutches his hand instantly. (Okay, so maybe they said nothing would be different, but face it, it’s different, they’re different.) 

“I just want to talk,” Natalie pleads.

“I am not going back home to you,” Lydia defends. “I refuse.”

“Please, Lydia, just listen to me! I miss you, I didn’t mean to hurt you that bad, I never would. You’re my daughter, I love you.”

“You don’t have to, Lydia,” Stiles whispers and Lydia looks conflicted, clutching Stiles.

“Mama, I’m not ready to go home. I don’t  **trust** you.”

“So that’s it… you’re really just going to betray me for him?”

“You hit me!” 

“You lied! You got your father arrested!” 

“I had nothing to do with it and you know that!”

“Even if that’s no reason to hit your daughter,” Kasper informs you. “There’s no reason you ever lay your hand on a child, no matter how old your child is- you don’t hit them.” 

Stiles recalls Kasper telling the same words to his father when he was ten. Kasper is firm and staring Natalie down. “She has a reason not to trust you, God’s gonna hand you what you deserve in the end. Only sinners hit they children,” he concludes. 

“And I can only imagine you’re ever gentle, right? To your wife and slaves?”

“My daddy’s never harmed a living soul in his life!” Claudia stands up. “The child said she’s not ready to leave, so she’s not leaving. I suggest you leave.”

Natalie resigns and she does not come back. 

 

Monday morning Stiles is headed out by 7 AM to Halifax. The trip is about an hour by carriage and really, it’s better if he’d gone by train but no trains left before 10 in the morning and that just wouldn’t do. So he’s riding along, he’s watching the world past and at 8.05 he arrives to the administration. At 8.15 he’s allowed into the meeting room and by 8.30 he has everybody's attention.

“I am not here to drop the charges, as you’ve suggested. I’m suggesting we try him for the one case in order to receive the land back to the man who lost it- they’re poor and homeless now. We try him for the one case, we execute and try him for all others at another time. My defendant was not apart of all those other things committed. It’s not his problem- my defendant has been robbed of his farm, his pride and joy, his work, his food, his everything. He cannot provide! We have to try Martin for that land and the fraud he committed to get it before we try him for all other cases being exposed. Mister Darcy, you’re a good man, I trust that you understand where I’m coming from?”

“I do… I understand. So this court case, you want it to be exclusive.”

“Yes.”

“Alright. Do you want to move up the date?”

“No… not at all.” 

“It was November sixteen, wasn’t it?”

“Indeed.”

“So it’ll stay that way.”

“Smart man. Pleasure doing business with you.”

“Pleasure’s all mine, Mister Darcy.” 

 

“What happened?” Lydia asks as he exits the carriage, having waited on the stairs with a book for him to arrive home. Boyd is watching the door and he shakes his head, giving a look that implies he thinks Lydia a real cuckoo, Stiles smiles a bit before looking to Lydia.

“It’s becoming an exclusive case for the Hawthornes. Everything else will be tried at a later date.”

“What about the current trial?”

“It’s the same date.”

“Okay.” She nods and he kisses her head gently.

“It’ll all be fine, I promise.”

“What if he ends up in jail?”

“At this point, it’s inevitable.”

“Oh lord,” Lydia whispers. “Mama won’t be happy…”

“Neither will he, I reckon.”

“I think I’m going to go lie down.”

“Alright, don’t hurt yourself or anythin,” he mumbles and she shakes her head, going back inside to lay in bed. This was all just a horrible mess- and her fathers tangled himself up in too much. 

 

Friday night Lydia is over at Allison’s house for a sleepover and she’s unpinning Lydia’s hair, as they talk. “I think he really is falling in love with me. I mean… he’s different. I don’t know what it is but he’s different,” Lydia gushes. 

“Has he stopped calling you a witch?”

“No, he hasn’t… actually, I think he’s come up with more names for me. But it’s different, its more… tender.”

“Ooo, have you broken him out of his mold? Sexed him up a little?” She says in a hushed sultry voice and Lydia’s cheeks pink.

“No… besides he thinks I can’t wait until our wedding night and so I suppose we’re competing or something. Almost like a bet.”

“Oh really?”

“After our kiss, he made a remark about it on Saturday night last week and he was saying how i just couldn’t wait because I suggested he kiss me again.”

“And I’m guessing you accepted his challenge? Jeez that boy is virgin as one could be- I don’t think he’s ever even gotten an erection before, let alone allow himself the action of relieving one. I mean, sure hairy palms is one thing- but god hair doesn’t grow if you try it once.”

“Oh let him be, he just wants to preserve himself. We’re the bad ones here,” Lydia says and Allison laughs. 

“Oh we are. Though, it wouldn’t half bad to know what to expect your wedding night, try to sneak a peak on him.”

“That’s perverted, I’m not doing that!” 

“Why not? There’s no harm in it, or even try riling him up a bit, see what you get.”

“Allison that’s  _ nasty.  _ I’m not doing that.”

“You’re considering it,” Allison reads off the girls almost pouty features. 

“Okay maybe a little bit, but not entirely.” 

“How are we going to do your hair tomorrow?” Allison asks, switching gears. “Perhaps your natural curls with a bit of an updo.”

“Mmm no, it’s too nice of a dress to have my hair down. A ship bun with a cream colored hair piece?”

“Oh yes… I adore it! You know I have the perfect ship bun piece! A little jewel that has a chain that circles the head but lands perfect on the forehead. You’ll look stunning. It’s even black, to match the birds on the bottom.” 

“Oh I’m so excited.”

 

“I’m so nervous!” Stiles cries and Kasper cackles. 

“Don’t be nervous, it’s just Lydia,” he soothes and Stiles looks at him pleadingly. 

“That’s the point. I… I don’t know. What if something goes wrong? What if we just like each other now but we don’t like each other later? I can’t get married! I still have so much to do… so much to accomplish, I can’t even handle a relationship!” 

“Stiles calm down, sit with me,” his grandfather offers, taking his wrist and leading the frantic boy to sit on the couch wit him. “I know it’s scary, knowing you’re falling in love with somebody under uncertain circumstances. But listen to me… if you love her, or think you could love her, it’s worth a shot. Love is something you make work- if you want it to work, you’ll never stop loving her. If you don’t then that’s where you tear apart. There’s nothing she’s doing that’s stopping you, whatever’s left in life is yours to do together.”

“I don’t want to hold her back… I don’t want to be held back.”

Kasper laughs. “That girls as loyal as a bitch, she’d fight right beside you Miezech. Don’t you understand that?”

“No… I really don’t understand why anybody would fight beside me,” Stiles whispers, face softening into a childish, puppy eyed look and Kasper softens, pulling him in for a hug. 

“Anybody who fights against you is a fool, there’s nothing wrong with you- there’s nothing wrong with wanting a life or wanting to protect people or believing in things.”

Stiles nods, embracing his grandfather. “She terrifies me.”

“Why?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever felt that cared for.”

“Let her care for you, only your mother ever cares for you in this household. And you care for her, nobody has ever cared for her.”

Stiles nods. “I have no idea how to be a husband.”

“Give her all you have, kiss her, make love to her, enjoy her, listen to her, and don’t stop her from being what she wills to be. Help her. The rest, it comes naturally, you figure it out. She doesn’t know how to be a wife but it’s all a matter of figuring out.”

“And we’re going to figure it out?”

“Together, you’ll figure it out. Don’t fear Miezech, this life is temporary and love is fleeting- keep her close to your heart. Understand?”

“I understand.” He nods into his pop-pop’s shoulder, still embracing him.

 

The party comes quicker than it should and everybody is looking at Lydia when she arrives with Allison, stepping down the steps to the garden, which is beautiful more than anything she’d ever seen. Lined with all sorts of things and the lemon tree is still thriving, Claudia’s table is right beside it and nobody elses. Stiles is mingling with all sorts of people, a face Lydia had never seen, fresh, young and innocent looking is laughing right beside Stiles- that was Theo Raeken. He was a South Carolina boy, raised near the ocean for a trading company over a plantation household. 

Stiles was glowing just as much as Lydia, who looked beautiful in her pale pink dress with the white stripe on the bottom lined with black birds and creatures, her ship bun was adorned with the head piece and Karen approaches her with teary eyes. “You’re beautiful,” she cooes and lord, Karen would never mean harm to anybody, she really was kind, no matter what she did with men. Lydia loved that about her, her never ending love and support. She thinks that if Stiles wasn’t marrying her, she’d want him to marry Karen because she deserves the love that Stiles could provide. 

“You really think so?” Lydia asks beaming and Karen nods.

“No really, you are. Look at you! You’re like a princess…” she gasps. “You know, don’t you?”

“Know what?” Lydia plays dumb.

“Oh nothing, nothing. There’s just a surprise guest coming, they’re supposed to be like… royalty or somethin, come along, lets go get you a seat.” 

Lydia nods and takes Allison's hand to tug her along with her and they end up beside Malia who doesn’t seem very happy, just very bored. She’s fanning herself languidly and smiles up at Lydia. “You look charming.”

“Thank you. Have you seen Stiles? I wanted to talk to him.” 

“No clue. I mean, I reckoned him to always be a bit of a liar.”

“A liar, what do you mean?” Lydia asks.

“Oh I don’t know, ain’t nobody that pure. He just came home cold as ice one day, I’d offer somethin happened, had his heart broke by a girl or somethin. I’d be real careful,” she drawls, shaking her head solemnly and Lydia’s heart skips a beat but she doesn’t say anything. 

“Quit horsin around, Stiles never done nobody wrong!” Allison defends. “Don’t scare her. He ain’t never in his entire life done anybody wrong.”

“Well somebody really done him wrong then.” She smiles sweetly.

“You don’t know him like I do. You have no right to talk Malia,” Allison bites and Karen tugs her sleeve. 

“He’s over there,” she whispers and Lydia nods, going over to greet him and Stiles openly smiles at her, Theo thinks that he likes seeing his friend smile that brightly. 

“Lydia, you look… wonderful,” he says as if wonderstruck by her and there’s a look in his eyes that she’s never seen before, she thinks that she likes it- its a warm look and its tender.

“You like it?” she cooes and twirls a bit, holding the sides of her dress and he nods. 

“It’s a good color for you,” he assesses and she smiles, moving closer to him and he smiles. Theo and the others move to leave them alone and once she’s certain she leans in a bit. 

“Are you nervous?” she whispers.

“Well yeah, I’m spending the rest of my life with you,” he teases with a smile and she smiles back.

“You’ll never let up, will you?”

“Oh never,” he agrees.

“But seriously, are you?”

“I was serious to. I really like you Lydia, I’ve never… felt like this for somebody, and I’m afraid I’ll mess it up.”

“You’re not alone there,” she whispers. “I feel the same.”

“But pop pop said it’s a matter of figuring it out together. Of loving each other and figuring it out, making it work. He said love works but making it work, so we just have to… never let that go.”

“I’d never let you go,” she whispers, as if she’d forgotten what Malia said because she knew it wasn’t true, not at all, Stiles would never hurt anybody- but perhaps somebody did hurt him and his heart did harden but she knew what that was like, she knew what it was like to protect herself. “I want to kiss you but I don’t think it’s appropriate,” she whispers giggling, mainly out of nerves.

“It’s not…”

“I feel like everybody's staring.”

“Only at you… you and how beautiful you look right now.”

“We’re saps.”

“Oh utterly and entirely, we might as well been born out of trees.”

Lydia laughs and shakes her head. “Might as well, it’s only appropriate.”

Stiles nods as Karen walks over. “Can I interrupt? I wanted to talk to Stiles just for a moment alone,” Karen asks and Lydia nods, stepping back. 

“I should go find your mother and say hello,” Lydia excuses, kissing Karens cheek in goodbye before walking off. 

“I’m proud of you,” Karen says and Stiles tilts his head. “I know that I should say it should’ve been me or something but… I don’t think it should have been. I haven’t seen you smile that bright since we were sixteen. Whoever it was that stopped that light inside of you, I hope that girl done give it back.”

“I think she will, I really do.”

“And I’m so glad for that- she’s sweet, real sweet… Malia hates her for it but I think she’s real sweet.”

“Sweet as peaches,” Stiles agrees and Karen giggles softly. 

“Good luck, Stiles. I hope you have the time of your life- take her travelin or somethin like that- be european for once.”

“She’d like that, wouldn’t she? Northern gal’s love that stuff, travelin all over like the English.”

“Yeah they do, please her, make her happy.”

“I’ll do my best.”

Karen nods and leaves and Stiles smiles to himself before going over and plucking a cool glass of iced tea from a tray and sits down with a table of men, including Theo Raeken and Mister Darcy. It’s a nice day really, not too cold at all, but not too hot either and the leaves were all red and orange and wilted, raining down with leisure, in no rush to meet the floor and they just drifted, gold and red and all and Stiles was happy. He was happy that this day was perfect because he felt like if today was perfect, then God had it out for him for his life to be perfect. Everything would alright, it’d all pass by real smooth and he was happy for that. He was happy that things had a shot at being perfect. Even when perfection didn’t quite exist.

 

Lydia was thrilled, she didn’t know what to do or say to anybody. But she was getting attention all over, he had family here that she’d never met before and was just meeting. His gram was here and she  was unpleasant but Lydia thought maybe she meant well, the poor woman was just old. She saw Stoker sitting with Kasper and smiles, she spots Allison at table of women playing bridge and feels her heart soar. She looks to a beautiful Gazebo and she wants to go stand up there and look over everything in their but she just stands there with Claudia, gazing out at everything from her spot. 

Claudia offers her a drink and she accepts it, walking over to Allison and sitting. It was around 2 O’clock when she was lead to the Gazebo by Stiles and it was as if everybody was watching, they all  _ knew  _ it was happening, but pretended not to as the two made their way up stone steps in the bluey gazebo and stood near the center. She could tell he was nervous and she was too. They stand there for a moment, he lets her look around and takes everything in, she thinks that leaves look beautiful and some of them are the color of his eyes, she looks back at them just to compare. 

“The leaves are the color of your eyes,” she points out and he laughs a little shakily. 

“Lydia Martin, You are… something else. And I have never felt this way about anybody so I wanted to make this special for you,” he whispers as she moves closer to take his hands and their faces are just inches apart and her eyelids are fluttering, she can’t believe it’s happening. “I want to learn to love you for the rest of my life- and I know it’s going to be hard, we’re both… broken, I think and I know we don’t have an equal ground about each other but I want to discover that with you. I want to know everything about you and I want you to know everything about me… I just want to be with you forever.  Which is scary and weird… because forever is such a long time- I have never wanted forever but you’re so different, and I just feel like we fit.”

“We do fit, perfectly like two puzzle pieces. Sap of the same tree,” She offers and he smiles at her, they both resist the urge not to kiss there and then, he glances over and they can both  _ feel  _ everybody's eyes on them, she can see Claudia beaming proudly by her Lemon tree. 

Stiles kneels and pulls out a beautiful, intricate looking engagement ring that is shaped like a crown, with a diamond hanging at the bottom, shaped like a tear drop, and two round diamonds above it and a larger round diamond topping it off, the sides breaking into two and meeting in the middle with gold lining and diamond encrusted, something was engraved inside. 

“Will you Lydia Martin of New York City, the craziest, strangest girl I’ve ever met by far, take my hand in marriage?”

“I do, of course,” she whispers and she’s genuinely crying, offering her hand to him as he slips the ring on and when he stands, she catches him in a fevered kiss for everyone to see, Stiles Stilinski was hers for the taking and no other girl could have- most everybody cheered, except for Jackson Whittemore and Malia Tate who found the two despicable. The north and the south should never collide, it just wasn’t a match to be made.

Yet Stiles and Lydia never felt happier, and he places her gently to her feet and Lydia is the one to break the kiss and she watches the man that captivated from the start try to process everything that he was feeling because of  _ her.  _ “Does kissing girls sober feel like you could be madly in love?”

“Kissing you sober, I reckon, is a lot better than kissing you drunk. It feels like we  _ are  _ madly in love.” 

“I almost want to say I told you so.”

“Go ahead, you have the right. You said I’d fall in love.”

“I did, I told you so.”

They laugh and suddenly they’re kissing again, but just for a brief moment and bless the lord, life had never felt so good to them. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> http://25.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_mbpp6zYhs31qf46efo17_500.jpg hair style lydias sporting but with a more subtle head piece  
> http://civilclothes4u.weebly.com/uploads/2/8/7/7/28778557/8581830_orig.jpg the dress  
> http://ring.adkinsforsenate.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/08/Victorian-Engagement-Rings.jpg the ring


	19. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> much shorter, filler chapter. In two more chapters we're having another history lesson and maybe some character analysis from me. If you have any thoughts on characters or history events that you want me to talk about go ahead and comment them or send them to my ask box anon/non at allineedcd.tumblr.com

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Thank you for writing this story!" Thank you for reading this story! Good to know I'm not the only one who let it take over my life (when you're a whore for period drama and nobody in this fandom writes it other than me- I'm thinking of writing a few more after this story. My ideas consist of a prequel to this story, a story based on a dear America book where Stiles is a Russian Soldier who has to escort Lydia, a polish girl, out of Poland to the Americas and they fall in love on the boat but she's arranged to marry Parrish and Stiles is in another state for work, and also one about royal!Stydia in the medieval days)

That sunday was heavenly as far things go, they went to church and went straight home, people were still residing at the house from the party, it was like their own little party was happening there at home. Everybody was sat in one room or another: talking, laughing, drinking whatever was served. It was busy and Lydia was helping host- she was a natural at it, she was just simply a people person and she knew how to make it worth being there.

And as much as she saw Theo Raeken, His grandmother, his Aunt Carol, Cousin Mari, Cousin Christopher, and the other’s he invited, she didn’t see much of Stiles. He would come and go, lace in and out of rooms, mingle for a while then leave again. He was in a nice brown suit, she had noticed and the smile that lasted all yesterday was still on his face- though she couldn’t seem to get a hold of him; it was like he would come into a room, she would plan to talk to him but by the time she finished a conversation he had moved on, he was no longer there and so she would follow suit, lacing through rooms herself, trying to greet everybody know everybody- his family had a lot to say.

“Did you know he started reading when he was only 3 months old?”

“Oh he went to harvard when he was 15!”

“I have the cutest picture of him from when the camera first came out!” 

“Oh y’all have to come by for Christmas,” one woman invited and Lydia would smile and nod, then move on to the next person. His nana was in a room full of the elder woman, Claudia and Victoria were out on the balcony with a group of women their age. Lydia stops and she notices Victoria is here and she had recalled seeing Chris earlier, Elizabeth Argent was with Odette, and she could recall their young daughter being somewhere here too- but she could not recall seeing Allison, though she also couldn’t recall seeing Theo Raeken in a while either. 

 

Stiles shuts the door and locks it behind them, he draws the curtains shut and moves to grab a book (something he still had from his schooling days) and sits down. “What’s that?”

“Collective of slave codes from different farms and bases,” Stiles explains as he opens the book and the other man sits beside him.

“Why are we lookin at it?” He whispers and Stiles gives him a look.

“There’s word somethin is gonna go down in Harpers Ferry- John Brown is planning an attack.”

“And?”

“And, what if this is the outbreak? Carolina has been willing to secede since 1786.’

“It’s a fair point but I think we’re fine as long as Buchanan is in office.”

“How can we be certain?”

“Well… I guess we can’t be.”

“I want to do something, I want to be… I want to play my hand in things.”

“And you will, don’t worry so much.”

“I’ve been thinking about it-”

“Thinking about what?”

“My life. Where I want everything to unfold.”

“And how is that you’re thinking of?”

“Mister Darcy told me this morning when he arrived for the breakfast that there was big position opening in their office. I could be put to bigger cases, more work, better work- something that’s a challenge.”

“Is that what you want?”

“I think it is… I just… I don’t want my life to be… I don’t want to just be this. I don’t want this to be my only legacy, I don’t want to have to wallow in the wake of all the bad things I’d done before I came home from Harvard and even after-”

‘What did you do before?”

“Well s’pose I’d done a bad thing.”

The other looks interested. “What did you do?”

“Something I’m not pleased with.”

“Don’t run in circles. You trust me, don’t you?”

“I’d never told anybody… I wouldn’t want to brandish my name.”

“I could never brandish you- we might not be the same in person but  _ I love you  _ and I’m willing to be there for you no matter what the circumstances may be.”

“I’d had an affair,” Stiles confesses softly.

“An affair?”

“Yeah… I’d had an affair for a few weeks and really, it wasn’t the kind where you like them, and it’s romantic. There was nothing  _ romantic  _ about it, it was raw sex, it was just sex.”

“And she felt nothing for you?’

“We felt nothing for each other, we didn’t speak outside of our affairs, normally she would just leave or I would leave after. When we did talk, I thought that she was alright- she was interesting enough and when I asked her where it would lead to, she told me that it’s horse play, there’s nothing between us than there is two rabbits.”

“And that’s why you came home in such a stupor?”

“Not really… Perhaps I just felt like I was pushing on easy, that I was a shame for my family. I didn’t want to be that. I wanted to be…”

“Perfect,” he finishes. “You wanted to be perfect?”

“I guess we are one in the same.”

“All men are alike.”

“I guess so.”

Stiles nods, playing with his watch. “She came to me when I got home from school, we talked for a bit and I told her I didn’t want anymore association. She started saying how she loved me, how she wanted to be with me and… I guess I didn’t understand it. I don’t know where it all came from…”

“Was she pregnant?”

“That’s what I thought but she claimed that she wasn’t, hadn’t been and wouldn’t be- and I told her that I’m not willing to do this anymore. I wasn’t going to be playin her nasty games.”

“And now?”

“I’ve forgotten it.”

“Was she there yesterday?”

“Aye she was. Though we didn’t speak.”

“Have you told Lydia?”

“I haven’t but I think she’s keepin the same dirty secret.”

“Why?”

“I talked to that man, Jackson Whittemore, he said she’d be a dirty whore- I don’t believe him in the slightest but I do believe maybe she wronged the way I did.”

“I don’t think you need to hang onto it, it’s far behind you, in your past. We’re nearing on twenty, the times have changed since we were seventeen- things are different now.  And you bleed the same as that girl, then it’s no problem at all.”

“It’s a personal guilt- and I’d all but forgotten about it but now i can’t forget it.”

“You’re just worryin that’s all.”

“Should I tell her?”

“If you really wanted to.”

“I don’t want to make her unhappy.”

“Wait it out.”

“I think I’m going to apply for the job.”

“I think you’d be a fool not to.”

Stiles grins. “I’m gonna do it.”

“You’re not your father and I’m not mine- we do what’s best for us, and you are by far the shining star between us two. Besides, if anybody could be a high spotted lawyer, it’s you.”

“My professors would be proud.”

They laugh and Stiles stands to put the book back. “I’m thinking maybe of building us a small house on the property, just so if Lydia wanted to be alone or have a house of her own, she has one.”

“It’s not very proper. Perhaps it’s better you stay in the estate.”

“I suppose you’re right. Things are just hectic now, mama would get lonely.”

“Besides she’d like a baby in the house.”

“You’re right.”

“Have you met that girl Tracy? Lydia’s friend? I think I’ve taken a liking to her, I’m going to meet her for dinner outside the village tonight.”

“Really?” Stiles cooes sauntering back over. “That’s new.”

“Its not terribly new,” He regards and they smile, eyes gazing down to lips but he restrains. “Besides, she’s a darling girl. A real doll.”

“Well you deserve the best,” Stiles assures. “I hope it works out for you… Though we should go down.”

“I’ll be there in a second, I think I just need a moment of quiet alone.

“As you wish.” 

 

Stiles skips down the stairs, practically bumping into Lydia who smiles in relief, as she takes his arms. “Oh my god, you’re family is lovely, really, but I don’t think I can socialize anymore.”

Stiles laughs, smiling and kissing her head softly, the girl holding his arms and smiling as he rocks her gently in his arms. “Take me somewhere,” she pleads and he nods, leading her outside to the empty porch, down the steps that lead to the garden path, then into the empty garden, cleared of the tables and cleared of everything but the bluey gazebo that still lays cemented in it’s spot- the way it’s always been, there since Stiles could remember it. 

She leans against him and Lydia is almost falling asleep. “Where did you go?”

“I had to talk with somebody.”

“Oh is that so?”

“Yeah it was nothing really though…” 

“Well it must have been if you left to talk with all these people here.”

“Oh this is nothing new for me, they’ll be here all week.”

“All week?”

“No worries Lydia, you don’t have to play hostess all week. That’s mama’s job, she’s just letting you have it for today.”

Lydia giggles and pets the shirtsleeve of his bicep, rubbing in little circles, he feels guilt tie up in his stomach. But he didn’t want to ruin her happiness, he didn’t want to talk about it but also… he did. He just wanted to blurt it out. Yet… he couldn’t find it in him.

“I…” he starts but the words die in his throat, and Lydia looks up at him, brow raising with interest.

“What?”

“I… I was thinking about my future and I wanted to do a job interview tomorrow in Halifax, but I might not be back for a few days.”

“A job interview? For what?”

“A higher lawyering position… So I could take on more interesting cases or something, I dunno. I just, I wanted to give it a try and if it doesn’t work out, I suppose I’m always needed here.”

“I have no opposition as long as you write me.”

“Of course,” he agrees, drawing his knees up and leaning against them. “Of course I’ll write you.”

“Have you seen Allison?”

“Not since yesterday no, i haven’t.”

  
  


Allison hits the bed with a hard thump and she gasps as her legs are spread, desperately reaching for Scott to embrace her again and she’s not disappointed as she’s granted a passionate kiss, her legs locking around his hips, allowing him entry to her body. Nails gritting against his back and she’s lost all concept of time. She doesn’t know how long it’s been, she’s not sure how many times they’ve gone at it now, but really she doesn’t care. She’s in an oblivious heaven, her back arches off the bed, nails drawing blood from dark skin and she thinks for a moment that she wants nothing more than to lick the blood from the marks she’s made on Scott McCall’s back. 

His moans rile her on, she’s heaving, gasping, desperately rocking her hips in an attempt to find her release but he pulls away and denies her of it, her hips dying down on the bed as she watches him dip down and kiss along the moist flesh of her neck, pulls her hair up and out of his way. Tongue darting along delicately- and really she _ must  _ taste horrible with all the sweat on her body but neither of them care. She rakes her fingers through her hair, watching him appreciate her but her folds flutter at the briefest contact, at the air that’s cool and flush against her body, she rocks up with a wanton need, whining.

“Scott, get to the point,” she begs and he smirks against her skin- the nerve he has to smirk when she’s vulnerable and desperate, she decides she doesn’t like it and now he’s the one pinned to the bed. 

 

Lydia stands finally and dusts off her skirt- stiles thinks that it doesn’t matter what Lydia martin wears, she always looks beautiful, very beautiful. “Has the northerner had enough of the cold?” he teases and she giggles, offering her hand up to him and he stands, kissing her knuckles.

“You won’t be long on your trip will you? I can’t possibly be left here alone- are you sure you can’t delay it?”

“I’d rather not, but I promise I’ll do my best to be home as soon as humanly possible.”

“Cross your heart?”

“And hope to die.”

“I love you, I do.”  
“I think I sort of like you, if that is anything to give in return?”

She lightly slaps his chest and rolls his eyes. “Here i was thinking you were a romantic.”

“Mmmmm you were wrong.” He presses his lips together and shrugs innocently.

Lydia shakes her head and they go on inside. Everybody is still in there places, still talking, still laughing, still drinking whatever is served and Lydia thinks- this is her life now. This is what she’s going to be doing when her children get married, this is what she has to do whenever they have parties or family events- these are the people she has to see again. She does notice, as they enter the room with Stiles friends, Theo Raeken had returned to his seat and was now flirting with Tracy as Lydia’s own friends had joined the party.


	20. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> uh-oh Stiles is in some sorts of trouble

 

Stiles is in Halifax, he has a small hotel room all to himself, he’s sitting folding clothes and putting them into a drawer with little concern of the world outside. He pours himself a drink, he glances at the clock- he’s scheduled for 5 PM, it’s not even 2 yet. He thinks maybe he should get something to eat, he hasn’t eaten all day, but then assesses that he isn’t really hungry, he doesn’t want to eat.

Stiles puts another shirt away and he wishes he could have something fill the silence but there’s only static white noise in the room and his thoughts. He doesn’t know what he thinks about, his head feels so full its empty and really, he kind of just wants to be sitting at home and not doing anything at all. But contemplates further and decides he needs time alone. With this idea he goes to the bathroom and then orders room service for a bath to be drawn. As it happens, he organizes his things, he stacks books by the bedside, finishes off the drink he poured himself and then starts undoing his shirt. The maid walks out of the room and glances at the exposed white t-shirt and he raises a brow.

“Your bath is ready.”

“Thank you,” he says before dismissing her from his presence and stripping completely in the bathroom, slipping into the warm water and ducking his head under. He thinks about how he should have shaved first then he assesses that maybe he should just shave after, there was no reason he couldn’t. Stiles pulls out from underneath and runs a hand through his thick hair, he thinks maybe he should get it cut, that it’s growing a bit long but gives up on the idea and just tries to relax. He melts into the bath, his hands caress the skin of his calves, curled in on himself as he bathes, head rested against his knees. He wonders if Lydia is okay, he feels guilty for leaving her on such short notice and so soon after their engagement, he hopes his mother doesn’t resent him for it. Stiles shifts and the clear water shifts and deludes the image of the bottom of the bath, besides the image of his legs under the water. He sighs and rests his head against his knees, god he wished he had some company- but really he had nobody and he didn’t ask for anybody either. He just dismissed it as an emergency- maybe he’d go back soon, maybe be home by tomorrow but he doesn’t really care.

Everything is a dull passing, he’s drained from two days straight worth of partying, worth of drinking, worth of happiness. He’s left to his thoughts- and he recalls his affair with her, the girl he had never loved. The last time they saw each other before he left for another year, she was on her bed, she was lounging with a fan and slowly fanning, it was a hot day and he just came to say good bye, she had stood up with her undone dress and pulled him into a long, drawn out kiss and they ended up pressed to her bed, their bodies sticky, they weren’t even fully undressed, they were more quiet than they ever normally were, and Stiles remembers the orgasm he had that afternoon was something else- but something else in a not great way, he remembered as if he felt nothing from it and he knew she was something of the same, it was etched in her features, the way she lay limp and breathing but not in a way that she was spent, it didn’t last and they were dressed in a matter of minutes.

They said their goodbyes but before he left he asked her what it was they were at.

_“I just want to know what I mean to you.”_

_“You and I are nothing but rabbits during season, a relief for a bitch in heat.”_

_“Then I hope you find your release elsewhere.”_

She hadn’t thought he meant it, he saw the bitter look on her face and how her brownish hair was still a mess from their undoing, her chest was partially exposed, that every moment spent together might have meant nothing- and she sneered at him. Then he got home and he acted as if he never knew her. She hated him, she wanted her revenge. Though she never spoke out about it because if she ruined him, she would have ruined herself. It was an unfair playing field, there were only losers on the board. He recalls Karen telling him how she wanted them to marry so she could have a hand in their marriage. Stiles figures that it was just jealousy, that it was just rage, it was that nobody else was as naive as he was or nobody else wanted to play her games- he hated himself for playing, all the while regretting every moment he spent with her. And he knew if there was anything she wanted, it was revenge.

  


Lydia was sitting with Malia in her garden, nobody else was home and Malia was ‘delighted’ to have company and delighted to have her way, leaning into her chair as they talked- she’d carefully plotted a plan to ruin everything between the two. She was only protecting what was Karen’s really- and technically hers.  

“That Whittemore man seems awfully stuck up on you,” Malia points out. “Why don’t you leave Stiles for him?”

“Because I don’t love him.”

“And you love Stiles? I don’t think I’d ever understand it.”

“Why’s that? What do you have against him?”

“Nothing, nothing at all- I mean really you’re a lucky girl, he’s a _ma_ zing in bed-”

“Excuse me? How would you know that?”

“Hasn’t he told you?”

“Told me what?”

“Well… let's just say I got a run for my money a while back. Oh he was divine but no, I wouldn’t call him husband material… Men like that are in _satiable._ Really they are but then again, they have a right to be- he’s something else.”

“Stiles would never- you’re lying.”

“Oh but I’m not, you could go ask him, he could tell you all about what it’s like between my legs. He had a real personal, eye leveled experience-” well, that was a lie, but Malia knew that if she could do anything, it was get her way.

Lydia’s eyes watch her and her eyes water with angry tears- he was lying to her. This whole time playing like he was this innocent boy, this true southerner with real, true ideals, that cared so much about Allison and how what she was doing was wrong and yet here was another woman telling her he’d gotten up close and personal with her-

“How many woman has he slept with?”

“Oh too many to count. Any girl could tell you that he defines oral fixation. You should watch him eat a peach one day.”

Lydia feels like she might burst into tears right there but she isn’t so naive, Malia has on too sweet of a smile. “I think I have to go.”

“Where are you goin sugar?”

“Away from you.”

Lydia picks herself up and marches on out of the house before ordering the driver to take her to the Rothman Household- he was close with Karen and if he hadn’t slept with Karen than Malia was lying. But then she rethinks it. “No, wait, I want to go back home. I want to be alone.” and the driver sighs and takes her home. She goes to his room over hers and searches through his things- looking for something, anything that could prove Malia wrong. She finds no love letters, she finds no perfumes, she finds no ladies undergarments or anything of the sort. She finds a journal and just before she could open it the door creeks open and she spins around, afraid it was Stiles himself, forgetting that he’d gone away.

Though it’s Brett and he’s watching with an untrusting eye. “What are you doing with his journal?”

“I… I was just l-looking for something,” she squeaks out and brett puts down the ironed linen and takes the notebook from her.

“What exactly were you looking for?”

“I… I-I-I reckon that it’s none of y-our business,” she says in a broken voice.

“I reckon it’s all of my business. What on earth could you accuse him of?”

“Who said I’m accusing?”

“Well I suppose this is a compromising situation isn’t it?”

Lydia was afraid of what she’d hear, if she was going to be lied to… of course she couldn’t trust anybody, not even her own fiance- who’d been so loving and kind to her just went and broke her own damn heart. But Lydia didn’t know Stiles had buried his past, that he genuinely was pure of heart, that he was falling in love with her- what he knew now was that he was playing a game. A heartless, soulless game- for all she knew, he left so fast to go see another woman.

 

Allison enters the house looking for Lydia around 7.30 but she’s denied entry to see her, Lydia claims she is taking no visitors (not even Allison) and Claudia shrugs when she’s asked, says that she’s probably tired from hosting so much. Though Lydia sits in her room and she packs her things and she decides she wants to go home- that she can’t bare to see him but then she rethinks it and decides she’s going to stay here. She doesn’t have to see him at all. She doesn’t care if he gets his stupid job offer- if he even had one at all, at that, and she doesn’t care about him at all.

 

Stiles of course doesn’t know about any of this internal conflict of hers, he sits and writes her a letter- teases her a bit and writes down a few details about the meeting. He tells her halifax is nice and a bit warmer than North Umberland, since it was so close to the chesapeake, it was colder obviously at home. He tells her about how Elizabeth Darcy lives near by and that everything here is much nicer- especially the hotel and that one day he should take her just for fun.

 

Lydia receives it and she can’t bare to read it.

 

The next day, Lydia goes to Jackson and she smiles sweetly when he opens the door to the suite. “Did you want to go to lunch? Really, I’ve been rude and I’m dying to catch up. We should go out to lunch, just me and you. Wouldn’t that be nice?”

“Really lovely,” he agrees, watching her with suspicion. “What about Stiles?’

“Oh he’s away for awhile and really I’m quite lonely. Come on, I’ll let you choose the restaurant and everything. I don’t know many places myself.”

“It’ll be great, just like old times; me and you with no distractions.”

“No… none at all.” He was the only distraction she needed now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you all hate me as much as I hate myself? Chapter nineteen is going to be posted by the end of today, maybe sooner


	21. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's really a big game of telephone and a feisty make out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! So I wanted this chapter to be longer but I just don't have the time, I'm going out to a camping site today and i might not be able to post until tomorrow or monday. But enjoy this chapter and you can always comment below. NEXT CHAPTER is the history lesson and some character analysis. If you have anything you want me to talk about, comment it below or hmu on tumblr. See ya later guys!

Stiles was home by Wednesday, eager to be home and quite a few people have left but the house was still bustling and full of life. He goes up to his room and he leaves his things for Brett to put away, moving around to change into something more proper and as he’s changing Allison bursts into his room.

“You’re home!” She yells and he’s barely pulled his pants up when she pins him to a bed in a hug and he laughs, holding her tightly.

“Good Lord, yes I’m home!” He mimicks, hugging her back. Allison scooches off him and allows him to stand, he pulls his pants off.

“You’ll be happy to know I’ve decided on my marriage.”

“You have?”

“I have!”

“Who are you marrying?”

“I’m marrying Scott McCall, but I haven’t told him yet so you musn’t tell him. Though drop a few hints and let him get on with the point, I’m starting to want a baby, seeing Gretchin Lesher with her pregnant belly and all.”

“Oh lord, I’ll be on top of it- I promise,” Stiles assures and Allison beams brightly.

“Lydia’s in the garden, with somebody, I don’t know who with but she’s in the garden. Let’s go see her- oh she’d be so happy to see you!” Allison squeals and Stiles laughs as Allison takes his hand and tugs him along, weaving through people and bodies, out the back door, tumbling down the steps and laughing. His green shirt is a bit shiny against the light and her floral, red and cream dress is swinging about her legs as they run down like children. They’re elated to be together, they’re so happy and he embraces her as they stop on the bottom of the steps, looking to see Lydia is with Jackson. Stiles isn’t pleased but he’s ready to approach them, when Jackson looks up and sees him and leans in to kiss Lydia and for a moment she does nothing at all, talking and moving her hands then another moment she lingers frozen in her place, and Stiles heart just about breaks in half as she does nothing at all about it. He doesn’t stick around long enough to see her get up and start yelling and though Allison does, Stiles doesn’t, he’s off and she knows he’s hurt and broken and she can’t stand it.

Jackson comes rumbling past her and Allison rushes down to see Lydia who’s stunned on the bench, she barely even looks up.

“What the hell was that?” Allison yells and Lydia looks up startled.

“I-I don’t know! I don’t know, I was just… I couldn’t kiss him back, I didn’t know what was happening I-”

“Stiles is never going to forgive you! You’re lucky if he ever even speaks to you again.”

“No!” She instantly yells standing up. “Allison please, please don’t tell him. I did- it wasn’t my fault!”

“I don’t need to tell him, he saw it happen.”

Lydia is rendered speechless, choking on her tears, her face is turning red and she’s sniffling. She hiccups a bit before sitting down and sobbing. “As if he’s any better! He deserves it! What does he expect of me, to be so pure and innocent when he can go around deflowering every girl on market?” She finds herself yelling and Allison is confused and appalled all at once, she doesn’t know what happened.

“What are you talking about? Lydia! Think for a moment! Put sense in your head.”

Lydia takes a breath, her shaking, dainty hands trying to wipe away her tears- she can’t put herself together, she can’t keep herself straight. “Malia said he’s been sleeping around- said he slept with her.”

“Stiles would never!”

“She went into some great detail, Allison! Girls don’t just talk like that for nothin!”

Allison stares at her before her anger takes her over and she points at Lydia. “Don’t move or I will cut you open with a knife. I’ll be back soon.”

She turns on her heels and rushes to find Stiles who’s pacing flustered in his library. What ensues is a fast paced whisper yell string of dialogue, not entirely thought through but managably understood by the other.

“Malia Tate told Lydia that you were sleeping around with girls-”

“And she believes her?” He cried. “Then kisses Jackson to get revenge?”

“She didn’t know you were there, Jackson kissed her, she didn’t want him to.”

Stiles is standing there biting his lip. “This is really coming back to bite me in the ass.”

“You actually slept with her?”

“When I was sixteen! I didn’t know any better, she was a lot more tolerable then!”

“Wait? That was years ago!”

“I know!”

“Why is she hung up on it now?”

“Because she thought I was going to marry Karen, bless her heart that girl is sweet as peaches but malia thought if I married her she’d have a hand in our marriage. Obviously her plans didn’t work.”

“So this is revenge?”

“This is revenge.”

“It’s a wage of war practically. I swear I’m gonna-”

Allison takes a deep breath and Stiles waits for her.

“I could talk to Karen, get really good dirt on her,” Stiles says.

“Do it. I get everything reported back to me, I’m going to ruin that bitch and make sure she regrets messing with us.”

“Me.”

“Us. It’s a team effort. You’re going to help.”

“Good, I can do that.”

“She’s going out with Matt tonight. Go talk to him.”

“What about Lydia?”

“Forget Lydia, this is more important, you guys can talk later.”

“Well I still have to find Karen and then-”

“You’ll come to my house. Don’t worry, you can talk to her whenever.”

Stiles nods and rushes downstairs to pull Matt Daeher aside, the young man seems ecstatic to be talking to Stiles alone, he’d never taken an interest in being friends but Matt had always adored him, even if somewhat jealous.

“You’re goin out with Malia Tate are you?”

“Yeah I sure am,” Matt agrees proudly. “She’s pretty, and plump on the hips too.”

“Which of course is favorable but I’ve always considered you a friend and I just want to protect you when I say that girl is all trouble. Are you willing to disappoint the lord?”

“What are you talking about? Hell no! I ain’t no sinner.”

“Everybody knows that Malia Tate lays on the first evening, the minute she gets you alone, she lures you in. She’s a witch, somebody said her papa brews real magic in his kitchens.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Would I ever kid you?”

“Never.”

And Stiles nods in agreement. “She’s a whore, her legs are open wider than the boarder of kansas.”

“Holy lord-”

“You oughta leave her standin, it’s for the best- I’m just protectin you from sinnin.”

“She done tricked you?” Matt whispered.

“Oh I never left myself alone with that girl but she done tricked a few of them boys from Halifax.”

“With Beth Darcy?”

“Oh bless that girl’s heart, she tried to stop her. Told me she done everything she can to stop her from sinning.”

“And she didn’t listen?”

Stiles shakes his head solemnly. “You find yourself a real nice girl, Matt. A girl like her ain’t worth ya’er time.”

“Bless your heart Stilinski, I thank the lord he sent you to me.”  
Stiles smiles sadly before moving to Elizabeth Darcy and whispering what had happened and she smiles brightly.

“You know what’s real funny about that?” She whispers and he raises an interested brow. “It done happened before. She left me in a bridge club for some liquor swapped man. Wouldn’t be surprised if she were born outta the devil himself.”

“Eliza, have I ever told you you’re the saints angel?”

“Never,” she giggled. “I ever thank you for settin me with Isaac by the way?”

“No, you hadn’t. Y’all gettin along.”

“Oh so very well. You hadn’t seen him lately?”

“It’s been awfully hectic and his father don’t let em out of the house much.”

“Well, I’ll be sure to pray for him,” Beth said loudly. “I never heard anything so awful.”

“Oh what is it?” Another girl asks from beside her, hand placed on Beth’s arm. Beth gasps as if surprised.

“Haven’t you heard? Malia Tate’s been sleepin all over, somebody saw her in the back of a club once,” she assesses and the girls beside her gasp as she nods. “Tricked a poor drunk man into her arms, turned him against his own _wife.”_

 

Stiles walks away with dirty hands of course, walking over to Karen who’s sharing a drink with some girls. Him and Allison cooly lounge on a couch, and Stiles motions to Karen when she looks over to come over. “Malia is saying things about me to Lydia,” Stiles begins and Karen’s brows shoot up. She’s less than amused.

“What kind of things? Anything about how she wanted a hand in me marrying you?”

“She told her I was sleeping around with dozens of girls.”

“And Lydia?”

“Believes her, naturally.”

“Where is she?’

“In the garden,” Allison chips in. Karen nods.

“I’m going to go speak to Lydia-”

“Wait!” Stiles pulls her back. “Be gentle with her on the subject of me, be aggressive in the subject of Malia. We’re on an escapade.”

“I see. Wrecking her are we?”

“It’s what we do best.” Allison smiles devilishly and winks at Scott when she catches him staring, leaning into Stiles and holding his arms. “Then come back to my house later with Stiles and I to give us all the dirty details.”

“What do I get in return?” Karen asks and Stiles shrugs.

“I might know a guy you’d like.”

“Oh is that so?”

“I also know everything my sister hears from that table and your boasting about the night in the bar. So… I’d just do it.”

“Right,” Karen agrees. “I’ll go talk to Lydia.”

“Mmm and you won’t tell Malia about any of this right?” Stiles asks and she glances between them.

“No, I quite like Lydia and I’d sooner prefer her happiness over Malias. Besides, I quite like you and Allison. I can afford losing some people.”

Stiles laughs and shakes his head, leaning back and Allison smiles.

“We’re horrible people,” Allison whispers.

“Not horrible, just vengeful darling,” he replies and they both have the same evil look on their face, content on each others arms. They, much like their mothers, knew how to play a game of revenge. He could remember the time Erica’s mother tried to step all over his own and his mother wrecked that entire family, Erica’s little stunt didn’t help much and let’s just say when they left they left with no dignity at all.

 

Lydia is waiting for Allison when Karen approaches her and sits with her.

“Stiles has never wronged in his life.”

“What?”

“And he loves you.”

“Where is he?”

“He’s busy?”

“Doing what?”

“Well… lets just say you don’t mess with him or Allison.”

“Why not?”

“You may never hear the name Malia tate again.”

“They’re going to kill her.”

“No! Are you crazy?”

“I- I don’t know! I’m very confused right now.”

“They’re just doing some dirty work but he wants to talk to you tomorrow, privately at breakfast… out of town.”

“Out of town?”

“Yes. Actually at this very beautiful hotel Outside of town in the countryside where they have fantastic cousine.”

“Why didn’t he tell me?”

“He’s a bit upset at the moment and again, they’re doing work.”

“Oh my god, this is a mess…”

“Just meet him there.”

“So Malia lied?”

“Basically.”

“But…”

“Trust me, she’s a good liar and Stiles would never hurt you- she wants to ruin you because she used to like him and thought she could live vicariously through my potential arrangement with him.”

“That’s pathetic.”

“What can you do?”

Lydia shrugs and as Allison comes out, Karen pulls her aside. “We need to set up a private breakfast and room for Stiles and Lydia at Hotel L’amour. Tomorrow at nine.”

“You’re kidding,” Allison whispers and Karen shrugs guiltily. “Fucking shit,” Allison whispers, Karen slapping her.

“Language! We’re not pigs!”

“Sorry,” she mumbles. “Go talk to Stiles.”

 

“Karen you did what!”

“It’s romantic!”

“It’s conveniently inconvenient! Okay, okay, send a telegram and let them know, sign in my mom’s name- there’s a man that works there that’s like in love with my mom.”

“Okay okay. What else do you need?”

“I dunno, a sum of cash, a miracle of some sorts and thirty days off.”

“I’ll book the hotel for three days?”

“And let my parents murder me for being in a hotel room with a girl, alone? Of course, obvious choice, greatest scholar on earth. Swear, Karen,” he gives her a look and she shrugs.

“Okay fine. You can have a room with two beds.”

“Karen.”

“Or just for the morning, I’ll pay for it,” she promises.

Karen rings up a telegram and sends it to the hotel and signs in Claudia’s name but puts the bill under her address.

 

Stiles runs downstairs and he can hear talk circulating. “Did you know about Malia Tate?” Somebody asks him and he innocently shakes his head confused.

“No I don’t know a thing.”

“Well apparently she’s been whoring around with some of the farmer men in chance they’d leave their wives for her- farmer Smith looked guilty as the lights of day.”

“Did he now?”

“Oh yes, left the room in anger when they kept talkin about her. All about her- can you imagine?”

“I could almost see it- Farmer Smith is a sensitive man. But really, I must be gone… I have to go,” he insists, smiling and turning on his heels to leave, striding out and stepping into the garden, he ignores the girls as he cuts through and even Allison seems confused. He passes behind some bushes, cuts through the trees and down the hill is the stables, where he runs down the hill and goes to get lightning.

His horse, not much to his surprise, is resting on the grass, legs tucked beneath him and his head only picks up slightly when Stiles sits beside him.

“Well you look like you’ve been havin a much better day than me,” Stiles assesses and the horse nuzzles him. “I’m awfully sorry I didn’t come to say hi before, and if you ask me- I oughta just come out here and avoided the rest of this nonsense,” he kisses Lightening on the head and smiles. Lightening rests his head on Stiles lap and Stiles brushes his hands through the horse's mane, resting his forehead to his snout. “We should’a ran away when I told you to,” he whispers and the horses ears pick it up and he throws Stiles off his head in disagreement, Stiles laughing.

Maybe things were panning out differently than he expected and maybe they’d take a turn for the better, but sometimes Stiles really does wish they’d found their freedom. He’d leave this waste of his life for a bit of freedom any day- no matter the circumstances or the girl, and in all cases, that girl could just come with him.

 

Inside, Lydia hears it all over. Malia Tate was a whore. Malia Tate was a life ruiner. “And she slept with Farmer Smith, his wife don’t know a single thing about it- such a shame, ain’t it?” Stiles Cousin Mari says and all the girls nod sympethically for the woman. “Good thing ol Lydia here will never have to worry a thing about my cousin, he’s sweet as peaches. Never done hurt nobody like that in his life.”

“Oh really?”

“He’ll protect himself if he had to but he ain’t never gone hurt you. I never done seen him look at _anybody_ the way he look at you. It’s like you’re the holy saint Mary, standin right in front of him- blessed all the aspects of his damned life.”

“You think so?” Lydia acts surprised. “I mean… I don’t think he likes me that much.”

“Likes you? Oh bless your sweet heart, that boy is in _loo_ oove with you.” The girl practically sing songs and ever girl at the table whispers or agrees, giggling and sitting Lydia down with them at the kitchen table. Allison had disappeared and Lydia notices that she hasn’t seen Stiles the rest of the night.

The next morning she finds herself waiting in a hotel restaurant (a gorgeous outdoor venue with flowers and a french metal railing, Karen wasn’t lying when she said it was beautiful) for Stiles to show. She can just barely make out his image on the interior of the restaurant, talking to someone- god he was always talking to someone, and she sighed, hoping this didn’t drag on. She wanted facts and she wanted to know what was going on.

Yet everything escapes her as she waits, she thinks that one day she wants flowers as beautiful as those perched on the bushes and she thinks that she would want rose bushes too. She didn’t know what kind of flower they were off the top of her head but they were white and clustered and beautiful on the green hedges. Lydia thinks that they are the beauty in the absence of beauty at all and she barely notices Stiles sits down but out of the corner of her eyes, she is aware of the new presence. She turns to face him and she sits up straight- she notices that he is doing much the same with his head tilted in that high mannered fashion he tends to do, she now sees that his poise is a defense mechanism, he wants to look as if he’s bigger than the world.

“What did Malia tell you?” he immediately asks, shifting in his seat a bit.

“You slept with her and a whole lot of other girls.”

“I never slept with the other girls, but I’d be lying to you if I said I hadn’t slept with her-”

“You did sleep with her-?”

He raises a hand before Lydia could argue, reaching out to take her hand. “Years ago, on a spring vacation from School. It’s far behind me Lydia, I didn’t even remember it happened until a while ago and somebody might suggest it’s guilt withheld but… I didn’t think she would straight up tell you.”

“She made it sound like it happened yesterday. Is it true what Karen said?  
“Well that depends, what exactly did Karen say?”

“She said Malia wanted a hand in your marriage.”

“She wanted some sort of control over it- yes. Karen told me about her pressuring Karen into seeing me more often and don’t get me wrong, really, I like Karen, I think she’s sweet as honey but I don’t believe she deserves to be forced into something she don’t wanna do because some girl is holding a false grugde.”

“Didn’t you tell Allison that a promise is made in-”

“Any bed. Sure, and our promise was that it meant nothing as far as our lives were concerned andd that we didn’t know each other outside of it. It would happen and then we’d go about as if it never happened, as if we didn’t know each other. Karen says she’d talk all the time about me but then again, she’d never spoken a single word to me in public- nor did she really ever speak at all to me when we were alone. I couldn’t tell you what her voice sounded like if you really wanted to know because I guess I don’t really remember it or anything about it at all. She was bitter though, because I had asked her before I left for school again what it all meant, if there was something between us, and she called it rabbits play, so I told her that if it was rabbits plays then I hope she finds somebody willing to play her games because I wasn’t going to. When I came home almost two years later, she was angered as to why I wouldn’t spend a moment alone with her and by then, I guess I’d changed. I was out to protect myself-”

“So the thing about Erica, it wasn’t the only thing what with your reputation?”

“People thought I’d caught the cold of the north, thought I was bitter towards them but the more time went on, the more people thought that really I was just the same person just more careful, as if protecting my reputation is all I could really do- and I didn’t want to disappoint. And before you ask, that’s a whole other story and I’m not about to go into my childhood.”

“Alright then.”

“And what about Jackson? I _saw_ you kiss him. It’s your turn to tell a story.”

“He kissed me,” Lydia pleaded. “I thought Allison told you.”

“It doesn’t matter what Allison tells you- I’d imagine a hundred people told you something along the lines of what I just told you.”

“Fair point.”

“What’s between you two?”

“Nothing.”

“What _was_ between you two?”

“I said nothing.”

“Nothing now but there was something before.”

“How do you know?’

“He told me he used to court you.”

“He did?”

“He did.”

“WHy didn’t you tell me that he told you that? Why were you hiding it from me?”

“I wasn’t hiding anything from you- I trusted you. If you wanted to tell me, you would have told me, rather than kissing him straight on the mouth-”

“I told you I didn’t kiss him back!”

“You _let_ him kiss you and that’s just as bad.”

“I was stunned, I yelled at him for it! I pushed him away!” She argues.

“It took an awfully long time for you to do so-”

“And I’d imagine you screwing Malia Tate was any better?”

“When I was sixteen it was years ago! You kissed him yesterday!”

“Oh- go to hell! Are you even listening to me?”

“Of course I’m listening to you and you’re not providing me with any reason to believe there’s nothing between you and that bastard-”

“He’s not a bastard!”

“So you’re defending him?”

“No! I wasn’t-” Oh god, she was only digging herself in a whole. “I loved him, okay? I loved him, I loved him a lot. I let him use me- is that what you want to hear? That he used me? That he used to force me into things? Told everybody I was a whore? We didn’t move here for business okay! We moved because I just _couldn’t_ keep my legs closed and-”

Suddenly Stiles just couldn’t hear her talking anymore and he moves to her standing figure and kisses her quiet. Really it was a poor thing to do in public but he couldn’t stand hearing her yell anymore, he really couldn’t. So his hands lay firm on her hips, his tongue, that had a fine taste of alcohol on it, was flavored with her own, the lingering flavor of the honey hard candies that lay about in little tins around the household and she doesn’t just recieve him, she kisses him back, gripping the lapels of his jacket as if she might fall if she doesn’t and it really kills him, that she holds onto him as if he’s guarding her life and god dammit, he would guard her life- he’d do anything for Lydia Martin but he would never admit it out loud; not in her wildest dreams.

“What the fuck,” She whispers, eyes narrowing at him.

“You have the most nerve grinding voice I ever heard,” He tells her and bites back a smile. “And if you wanted to know, that’s not what I wanted to hear. I did not need a rampant confession for your very messed up love story- that really made me feel no better.”

“If it helps I love somebody else now,” she whispers, the waiter clearing his throat and both look over.

“Not to break up the moment but you’re coffee is here and it really don’t taste very good cold,” he informs in a heavy southern accent and Lydia moves from Stiles’ arms and sits down.

“Thank you. He was getting awfully disgusting with emotions anyways.”

“Me? It was you that was confessing love for people.”

“Well luck to the both of ya nobody else is awake yet to see ya scene, can’t imagine ya mother would very happy.”

“Let’s not tell her about this- yeah?” Stiles offers the waiter, who grins and nods.

“Only for a 5 dollar tip.”

“That’s a done deal.” Stiles laughs and Lydia smiles a bit.

“Are we okay?” She asks after a moment of silence and she watches him sip from the bowl like, white cup, the foam dancing on his lips. She notices that he’d never gotten the chance to shave- not properly anyways- and that his shadow created a sharp contour for his cheeks, she thought it was the most handsome he’d ever looked. She wanted to sit in his lap and kiss his cheeks, she wanted to nip at the rough skin and run her hands over it, she wanted to kiss him- kiss him the way he just kissed her for hours.

“What do you mean?”

“We’re not… this isn’t… what we _had-”_

“Had implies that whatever happened is past tense. We’re still engaged, I still think I like you. I don’t know what you mean by had.”

“I just- you’re not mad at me, are you?”

“I don’t really know.”

“I’m… I think I feel the same.”

But she didn’t, Lydia couldn’t stand to be mad at him and he could see it in her eyes. “Don’t lie to me. I know you’re not mad and maybe you feel like you should be, and really you’re allowed to be, I should have told you. But I’m just not… I feel like you don’t want to tell me what happened with Jackson, I just admitted my most shamefully kept secret to my future _wife._ If you had any sense, you’d have called our wedding off when I told you.”

“How could I do that to you when I made the same mistake?”

“That’s really not the point- do you know how horrible I felt holding that guilt with me the rest of that school year and the next? Do you know how much I did to just forget it? You wouldn’t know but it was a painstaking amount of trying to delete the memory entirely, I didn’t want to remember it and I hate remembering it now. I just told you something I never planned on telling anyone, and Allison only found out yesterday.”

“I… I didn’t know,” Lydia admits. “Why is it so personal to you?”

“Why is Jackson so personal to you?”

“He ruined me.”

“She could have ruined me.”

“I don’t think anybody could ruin you, you’re bite is worse than African’s snake venom. Malia can’t even walk out of her house without being shamed by now.”

“I do what I have to. It’s a means of survival.”

“Is that how you see it? Survival.’

“Of course.”

“I see.” She nods and takes her hand. “You booked a room right?”

“Yeah.”

“We can talk about it in there.”


	22. History Lesson and Character Analysis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a lil bit of history and some analyzing, I'll definitely do this again at another point- just for now, I don't think I have enough covered for all the things i want to talk about

 

Aaaaand I’m back with another one of these! Okay so we’re still in the same year, same time period which is 1858 but things are quickly drawing to close of the year since it’s just about november! We’re going to go into a lot more detail about sectionalism and the sheer violence in the nation between north and south. I’m also going to talk about the story and my perspective on some things, so enjoy the read! 

 

To start, Sectionalism was ever growing. It’s believed to have really started in 1846 when a PA senator named David Wilmot thought it’d be a real dandy idea to set restrictions on the land we won from the Mexican war, it stated that no land won from the war (Texas, New Mexico, parts of Arizona and California) should be open to slavery at all. This upsets the southerners and thus they draw up the missouri compromise of 1850 (better known as the compromise of 1850), which allows states to choose whether they are free or slave states by popular votes- this is known as  **Popular Sovereignty** . 

To further into the idea of sectionalism, things were becoming violent. When Kansas was admitted into the union, there were border ruffians, people from slave states, who come in and rig the votes. They’d beat people and trash them- Kansas had to vote 3 times for admission as a free state, mainly because there were not many slaveholding people. Kansas senator Sumner would constantly ridicule another man and verbally harass him for being pro slavery to the point where the other man beat Sumner with a cane (to death- I believe) in 1856. 

There were men like John Brown, white extremists Abolitionists (people against slavery) who would use violence for their cause. John Brown moved to Kansas with his sons once it was admitted as a slave state (initially) and with his sons, went and hacked 5 pro-slavery men with a broadsword and disembodied them; this event is known as  **Bleeding Kansas.** An event that I actually discussed in this chapter was Harper’s Ferry, which is a town in Virginia. Brown and 21 other men had planned to take Harper’s Ferry arsenal, steal the weapons, give them to slaves and cause an uprising. This plan was foiled and John Brown was caught by the military and Navy and arrested. Though John Brown was an extremist, many abolitionists saw him as a martyr for their cause, they thought he was this incredible person who was doing incredible, brave things. Southerners believed he was attacking their way of life and the northerners were cheering him on! This guy was a lunatic, can you imagine? Like it’s so crazy the extremes these people were willing to go. 

Soon there’s going to be the Election of 1860. The Election of 1860 is the presidential election that Lincoln ran in, though his main front runner was a man named John C Breckinridge. Breckinridge was born January 16, 1821. He was a lawyer and politician from kentucky and served as Vice President under James Buchanan from 1856-1860, in 1860 he dropped out of being VP and started running for President. Breckinridge is actually very popular in the south and holds 78 votes, that’s almost the entirety of the south, the others go to Fillmore, who isn’t really important in this race. Anyways, so Breckinridge is running, he’s pro slavery, he has the popular vote of the south but Lincoln wins the presidency. He holds 108 votes and does not hold a single state in the south. Prior to his election many states had threatened to leave the union if Lincoln won- his election leads to 7 states immediately seceding in the lame duck period before Lincoln actually takes office. These states are South Carolina, Mississippi, Florida, Alabama, Georgia, Louisanna and Texas. Virginia secedes April 17 of 1861. This is one year after Lincoln takes office and 5 days after the official start of the Civil War. 

 

So that’s the main history stuff I wanted to talk about really. There isn’t much more than that and I’ll definitely flesh out the politics a bit more when the time comes around. So now I’m going to talk about the characters and some plot stuff, just to discuss. Feel free to continue discussions and threads below. These are just my thoughts on my story- but I guess it’s really open to your interprettation. 

 

**Natalie Martin and her Hostility towards Lydia**

I think Natalie has always been a bit rough on Lydia- back then raising children was viewed very differently and Natalie was certainly a bit rougher on her, though she never was outwardly abusive, just very verbally abusive and controlling over Lydia. This, at certain occasions, fleshes out into abuse. Though I imagine it’s not often and drunk lashing outs. Natalie especially grows colder towards Lydia after learning about her affair with Jackson. Though she might not have seen them have sex, she hears all over about what a whore her daughter is and how she’s left her legs open for a man that isn’t her husband. Although you as the reader knows Jackson was abusive to Lydia, most people don’t and at that time, they really would not have cared. Anyhow, Natalie finds out about this and she really does resent her daughter for ruining their name.

Not only that but she comes to resent herself when she sets Lydia up to marry Stiles, whom they vastly underestimated. He was just supposed to be a rich boy with a plantation that could deal some sums of money into the Martin family, as we know this is against their knowledge of him. So when Lydia’s already set fiance arrests her father, Natalie gets the hint between the look the two exchange that Lydia knew about the arrest and feels betrayed. Lydia was choosing a southerner over her own family- which was basically the worst she could do. This goes to the extreme sectionalism in the country- these people were from vastly different worlds. I really don’t think Natalie agrees with this marriage though she’s doing what it takes for money and power, essentially.

This leads to a bridge between her and her daughter because Lydia loves Stiles. This isn’t about money or power for Lydia, this is about her happiness and her love for her future husband. To Natalie, Lydia shouldn’t love this man, she should live her life using him for sex, money and children. There should be no relationship to her and I think we’ll grow to see more of that as the wedding draws closer and Natalie starts to see her hold on Lydia loosening up a bit. 

 

**John Stilinski and his relationship with Stiles**

John loves Stiles, Stiles is his first born child, his pride and joy. But I think Stiles isn’t always fond of John, and let’s be real honest he’s also a mama’s boy. Though I think this is because we know John really used to push him. I’ve hinted it at a lot, John used to really push him and make him do a lot of work for the plantation and the farm because he wanted his boy to be a good successor, he wanted Stiles to be strong and fit and suited for his job. Of course, as we know, Stiles doesn’t like this and he doesn’t want to be like his father, who does lash out on him and do as much as it takes to make Stiles who he needs him to be. 

I think John really drills morals into him, especially when he was younger and he has the right to because it’s hard running a plantation and working on one of these things- it’s hard doing these kinds of jobs. So John really just wants Stiles to be the best he can be and Stiles decides that this kind of life isn’t for him. So he goes to law school and becomes a lawyer like Mister Stoker, which I’m going to go into the bit later on in the story. 

This tension between the two leads to a more tense, unresolved kind of dialogue between them. They love each other, they care for each other but they don’t really know how to communicate. John doesn’t talk to Stiles much and stiles doesn’t talk to his father much. A lot of it might also have to do with John not wanting his babies to grow up- he even tells Stiles “I still think you’re 16 sometimes” as if to say like, I don’t want to believe you’re almost twenty and getting married. That’s hard for him, that’s a difficult thing to watch your child grow up and he does have these two younger boys who both resemble bits of Stiles and he indulges in them much more clearly, takes them out to work with him every day. So I think that’s part of the tension a lot too- it’s that Stiles really is grown up and John just doesn’t want him to be. 

 

**Stiles and Allison**

These two really are two halves of the same whole. They complete each other. And though Stiles and Allison hide things occasionally, most nothing gets untold between them. They’re both charasmatic, rich, charming people who know how to be public figures. They’re extremely powerful in their society and they know how to use that power- which is something they learned and picked up from their mothers in their teen years and they notice how gossip can become a chain of destruction for somebody. So they use that to their advantage.

Much of the story they’re really just trying to protect each other. They want the other to be happy. I think Allison just wants to see Stiles happy and she thinks that happiness has to be his independent choice and not somebody elses ideals for his life. She just wants to watch him be happy- that she wants him to choose Lydia because he wanted Lydia and not that his parents did. I think Stiles really feels much the same. He wants Allison to choose somebody for the love in her heart not the cravings her body have. He wants Allison to be smart about her decisions because now we know that he knows that guilt and that hurt. He just wants to make sure she doesn’t have to feel what he felt, he doesn’t want her to ruin herself the way he feels he ruins himself. 

 

**Stiles + Running away**

I know many of you might not deem this important but the writer I am does and I just want to point out that Stiles does talk about running away or leaving a lot but never to a  **_person._ ** He always tells his horse lightening that he wants to leave, that he wants to run away, that he doesn’t want to live the life that he lives anymore before getting some sort of disapproval from the horse and Stiles normally proceeds with “you’re right, people need me here.” 

I think Stiles feels trapped. Trapped with expectations, trapped by societal views, trapped inside his own head and body, that’s he just this old skin sitting inside a new person waiting to be reborn. He feels like life is mundane, that there is nothing left for him and he wants… more in life. He wants to be more and do more things- he doesn’t want to fight this battle of north and south or slavery or non slavery or even who’s richer than who. Stiles faces problems and his escape is the thought of escaping or in extreme cases, his escape is drinking. 

Though Stiles really does feel like a caged bird and I think he thinks there’s more to the world than the continent he lives on, than waging wars. And I think Stiles wants to be out there somewhere learning new things and living a life freely without aristocratic bounds. I think the reason he liked having sex with malia, if at all, for those two weeks was that he was allowed a secrecy of sexual freedom- there was no pent up frustration, nothing was expected of him, it was like running away. But that caught up to him and it became the reason he wants to shed his own skin, start a new life. I think Stiles just wants to rid of all his past doings and go somewhere new, somewhere where he doesn’t remember his sins and his misdoings even if they were years ago. 


	23. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lydia goes into the affair with Jackson, a look into Isaac and Beth's relationship, Scott's leaving back home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO I am going to start another period drama fic (no I'm not ditching this one, I'm just going to be writing both) and it's going to be a lot more different than this one- it's going to be placed in 1912, I'll be posting a trial chapter like I did for this fic, but it'll be a first full chapter and it'll probably be up by tonight, alongside chapter 21 probably!

Lydia and Stiles enter the room and Lydia locks the door behind her. She thinks it’s really not half bad: there’s pink and red wallpaper covering the top half of the wall, the other half covered in wooden panels, and there’s two bed with yellow, silky duvets on them with curtains on the windows to match. Her dress is a simple hoop skirted dress that’s brown with white lace on the folds of the dresses tiers. She watches Stiles approach a bed and he sits down and pours himself a glass of bourbon from that provided- she realizes that Stiles likes to drink and that he does it often, but she wonders if it’s a nervous habit or just that he likes to drink. She takes the glass from him and puts it down. 

“I want you to be totally sober for this.”

“I’m totally sober normally, one drink won’t do me much harm.”

“Drinking is a sin, you don’t need it,” she insists and he sighs and nods. She sits beside him and he angles his body to face her. 

“Go on then, tell your sob story.”

She makes a face at that but he’s leaning back against the pillows, undoing his vest waiting for her. “You look awfully comfortable.”

“We might be here an awfully long time. Besides, I listen better when I’m comfortable.”

Lydia nods and watches him, lay there comfortably in a way she really hadn’t seen him before. She leans over and brushes back his hair, as if adjusting it just a bit. “Well… I had always known of Jackson, we had known each other as kids and we had a similar friend group and i took a liking to him when we were fifteen. I thought he was awfully handsome and all that, so I started talking to him and picked up on how to flirt with him and I did- I did all that. And one day we started seeing each other in private, I was sixteen by then. We do this for about a year and then I’m nearing on seventeen and things change- he wants to have sex with me and I didn’t want to, so one night he gets me drunk and I end up in bed with him. Then from there, he keeps saying we did it once we can do it again. If I loved him I would do it again. So I did… I listened to him and I let him use me and sometimes I liked it, sometimes I really thought that maybe he loved me or something like that- but it never felt… i don’t know… right? I didn’t really like it most of the time and I don’t know if it’ll be any different with you, but even kissing you is different. I like kissing you, not in a way that I used to like kissing Jackson. It’s not because it’s new, it’s because I love you, I want to kiss you for more than just the sake of having kissed somebody. And well…

“One day he started just getting… greedy. He wanted everything and everyone’s attention. He wanted to be the best at everything and when he wasn’t, he acted as if it was my fault. Like I was the reason he couldn’t succeed in life and he punished me for it. He would hit me, he would yell at me, he would boast about my body to people. And I… i was ruined.” She whispers the last sentence, her eyes focused on her hands, blazing green eyes coated in a sad darkness and Stiles tilts her head up to look at him.

“You’re not ruined,” he whispers assured. “There’s nothing ‘ruined’ about you… People talk, but people never stop talking. It’s okay.”

Lydia smiles slightly at him and she leans into his arms and he hugs her, he hugs her tightly, reclined into the pillows as she holds him. “I couldn’t even leave the house without people saying one thing or another about me. I was this whore, this… despicable person. I couldn’t even show my face, I was shameful-” She takes in a deep breath. “Don’t you see? We moved her to save my reputation.”

“And yet all your parents have done is try to ruin their name but under my name, you’ll be the best there is, really.”

“You think so?”

“Nobody would mess with Lydia Stilinski- Lydia Stilinski is going to be the most powerful woman there is. Why do you think people pay so much attention to my mother? Money talks, and if you’re a Stilinski it’s your name that speaks volumes- nobody would cry out against you and really, I could ruin the Whittemore name for good. He’d never walk again.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I plan to.”

“I see… the way you did with Malia?”

“Something like that.”

“You do love me.”

“No, I like you moderately enough to protect your good name. Besides, he plays it all wrong.  _ He  _ tells everyone what he has to say, I just get the ball rolling and nobody knows it's me.”

“You work fast.”

“I do what I have to do.”

“So dutiful,” she teases, inhaling the scent of his skin, curled in the nape of his neck. She couldn’t quite place a scent on him- something that smells like the forest after a rain shower and… something that smells expensive. She likes it, she decides, and that it’s her favorite scent in the world. Stiles doesn’t reply to her comment, but she can feel him, tracing patterns against the smooth material of her dress. 

  
  


Isaac is cooking in the kitchen, Beth sitting on one of the counters as she watches him cook, giggling as he talks to her about something- she’s lost track of what really, she just genuinely enjoy hearing his voice. It was so nice and his accent was so unique to any other that she’s heard. Perhaps it’s just that she doesn’t care for most irishmen but oh Isaac had something else to him. He was… sweet and charming. 

Beth thinks for a moment and she believes that really, she doesn’t understand the hatred towards people like him. The Irish were no different than the British and the British were no different than them. So Beth gets up and she pads over with her bare feet to hug isaac about the waste and he seems surprised, looking down at her. 

“What’s this?”

“I just thought you needed a hug. You looked awfully cozy and I wanted ta hug you,” Beth explains and Isaac smiles brightly at her before wrapping his arms around her waist. “I wish I had a sweater that cozy lookin.”

“Perhaps I oughta get you one, on the outskirt markets where I got mine. You can wear it whenever you stay over.” 

The girl giggles and nods- pressing her nose to his chest. “Think after ya cook we can go to the swings in the park?”

“Sure we can, if that’s what you want.”

“Oh it’s exactly what I want,” she whispers and he smiles, running a hand through light brown hair and she giggles happily pulling away from him. “Oh you oughta have heard what Malia Tate did.”

“What did she do now?”

“She’s been sleepin with Farmer Smith, really got between the man and his wife. Did you know?”

“Farmer Smith? Good god and heaven, he’s such a good man though!” 

“Well some say he skips church occasional-”

“But who could blame him, his farm is the furthest west. Are you sure he’s been cheatin?’

“His wife confirmed it herself. Shame isn’t it?”

“An awful shame, really it is.” 

“His poor wife, she’s so kind- and don’t they have two children?”

“Yeah, one of they boys go to the school-”

“The school you teach at?”

“N’aye, another school. But I was hopin if we marry you’d move in with me and daddy. You’d like livin with us.”

“You know I gotta care for my father.”

“Oh but you poor child, he don’t treat you very well.” 

“He’s still my father.”

“And you can visit him.” 

“I’d have to see.”

“You’re genuinely so sweet,” she cooes, a hand reaching up to caress his cheek and he smiles, kissing her thumb before pushing her off. 

“Alright, I have to finish the roast before it burns,” he teases and she shakes her head, moving to do the dishes. Since she’d started hanging around the small house, she’d become quite domesticated. She even had the cook teach her some dishes so she could impress Isaac- one she baked him a real cake. A good cake. She was awfully proud of herself and she thinks that Isaac quite enjoyed it.

Isaac watches her with his blue eyes, she had rolled up her sleeves and looked about for the pump in the kitchen for water. “Do you know what you’re doing?” he asks her. “The water’s outside in a well.” 

“Oh… Alright, I can get it.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes!” 

“Alright, alright, go on ahead Elizabeth,” he says chuckling as he watches her go on. 

  
  


Allison is watching Scott pack, his bags are slowly filling with his clothes, his amenities, anything he’d brought or bought during his visit. 

“Must you leave?”

“Really, I must.”

“Oh but you see, there’s still a whole awful lot you haven’t done and Stiles would be so disappointed if you left before you two truly had some time together- he’s having a hunting party next weekend and really you must stay for it and-”

Scott kisses her head. “I can’t.”

“But you must- really you must.”

“I promise I’ll be back in due time, but right now, I really must go home. I’ve been here quite the while- don’t you think?”

“Only about a month. A week more won’t hurt, it wouldn’t put a damper on anything. Unless somebody is very ill. Is somebody very ill?” 

“Nobody is ill Allison but I must go.”

“Then if you must go, I want to give you something.” She reaches behind her neck and unclasps her necklace, the silver one with the engravement on it. “I want you to have it.” 

“You love this necklace, I couldn’t-”

“I want you to have it.”

“I’m going to be fine… I’ll be back before Stiles wedding, what is this all for?”

“I feel like I’m losing you. I want you to keep it- that way you’d never do me wrong.”

“I would never do you wrong anyways.” 

“Good.”

She leans up and he embraces her passionately, as if they might never see each other again, even if they’re destined to meet soon, Allison almost fears they may never see each other again, and everything had gone so perfectly. Of course she wanted him to stay, stay with her forever but that didn’t seem to be the case. Though in Scott’s fair argument, he could never let Allison Argent go, even Miles away, he’d be with her. 

“I promise to write,” he whispers.

“Everyday, I don’t want to go a day without a letter.”

“I’ll do my best. I promise.”

 

Lydia didn’t know how tired Stiles really was until he had fallen asleep in her arms, she practically forgot he had just gotten home yesterday before he was thrown into his mess. And his gelled his hair was falling a bit flat as he snoozed on her shoulder, jaw slack, skin just a bit more pale. She thinks he looks peaceful against the pillow, his chest rises slowly and falls even slower. He’s like the waves of the ocean, slowly pulled and slowly taken; he was a quiet sleeper, subtle, and she hadn’t really noticed he’d fallen asleep, their comfortable silence just lead her to believe he was just holding her but she turns her head to say something and he’s fast asleep in the bed, his arm looped around her waist and his head against the pillow. She doesn’t want to disturb him so she doesn’t move. Though Lydia assesses that if she had a choice, she’d like to stay like this forever.

She pities him really. It seems he can’t escape the world, that one second he’s trying to better himself and the next he’s being yanked back into his past mistakes. She feels horrible for being angry at him and even worse for making him think she betrayed him. She wants to get Jackson by the throat with one of Allison’s knives for hurting Stiles like that. Lydia knows that Stiles was hurt, she could see it in the way he had doubted her- how he doubted his own feelings for her. 

This was something he’d never felt before and Lydia watches him sleep peacefully and she wonders if he would have trusted anybody else to watch him sleep- which is strange but he’s so vulnerable, he doesn’t seem on his guard, he doesn’t watch what he says, he doesn’t have any control. He’s just sleeping and she wonders if behind his eyes he’s dreaming- she wonders what he dreams of. She wonders how long it would take to fully regain his trust. Lydia rests her head in the nape of his neck and nuzzles him gently before she herself falls asleep. She thinks that she wouldn’t trust anybody else to hold her while she slept, she never even really trusted Jackson with that, she always left when she could, got home before suspected. But she was okay with this, okay with laying in his arms. She liked being in his arms- no place on earth felt safer. 


	24. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Lavenders blue dilly, lavenders green, when I am king dilly dilly, you shall be queen."

Stiles believed there was a fine line walking between him and a world at war, it was as if he could feel the world shifting beneath his feet and he so badly wanted it to stop. If Stiles was being very honest, he feared change a great deal because great change was never truly consistent in his life though there seemed to be a lot of it lately- a lot of great change and he feared that much of it was a prerequisit for something bigger. It was November 1’st and that left him with 15 days until the trial. His footsteps were heavy as he moved down the porcelain floors to the holding cells. He flashes a card and the guard lets him into where Francis Martin is being held. 

The man looks up from his book and Stiles shuts the door before sitting across from him. “I made some adjustments, I’ve saved you from a great deal of trouble for now. I know I’m supposed to be working against you but really, I am trying my best here.”

“What’s the man asking for?” Francis queries. 

“He just wants his land back. I talked to him, we talked to Judge Darcy, we agreed that he just wants his land back and you could potentially be under house arrest. There are follow up trials on the other evidence they’ve found but it’s not yet to be attested.”

“Is it a private case?”

“It’s a public case.”

“And you can’t change that?”

“It would seem suspicious on both ends.”

“So?”

“So I’m not doing dirty business sir, I really am not. I’m just doing my job and your trial must be public. I cannot change it, I am very sorry.” 

“How’s my family?”

“Lydia and her mother got in a fight, she’s been sleeping at my house- Lydia I mean.”

“What happened?”

“Her mother hit her I’m afraid and well… she’s been rather upset about it, so we’ve taken her in, and we’ve been officially engaged. I was real good about it too, she would have wanted you to be there, Mister Martin- she really would have.”

“You think you love her?”

“I think a lot of things Mister Martin, but if you really want to know what I think of her, I think she’s the bravest girl to ever walk the earth Mister Martin. I think your girl is a fighter and she’s kind and she’s pleasant and really, I don’t deserve a girl like her, I don’t deserve her at all.”

“A man like you does deserve a girl like her. You’ve been protecting me like I wasn’t an enemy at all.”

“I don’t target people, I just do what I have to. And you see, people target me.”

“Do you believe that?”

“I believe a lot of things, but that’s not why I’m here. If you want, I could bring Lydia in tomorrow to speak to you. She could tell you lots more than I could, I’m very sure and I’d bet the company of your daughter suits you more than my company.” 

“I would love to speak to my daughter- would you bring her to me?”

“I’ll do what I can, I promise.”

“Thank you.”

“My whole pleasure.”

  
  


Stiles gets home and he seeks out Lydia, immediately going to the third floor of the house and into his library, where she’s laying flipping through another book.

“Can I just say, that I’ve looked through every book here and have found no pornographic novels at all? You don’t have Arabian Knights, and I’m soooo disappointed. What’s a girl to do to get a gaze around here?”

“Read the bible, somewhere it has to have explained sex for you.”

“Oh that’s so clean and holy. I want something raunchy so I can leave it open on your desk and hope to rekindle your inner sex appeal and maybe give you idea for our wedding night.”

“Is that so? Well go buy them yourself, you didn’t think I actually sat here getting myself off to explicit novels did you?”

“Well I’d hope not, you know they say masturbation leads to mental illnesses?”

“Mmm I do, which is why I don’t do it. But that might explain a thing or two about you, huh?”

Lydia chucks a pillow at him and he folds his arms to protect his face, crouching over and it flies over his head as he laughs at her. “You’re a horrible person. I do not masturbate!” 

“You just told me you searched my entire library for explicit novels.”

“And I searched your bedroom with Brett. We were both a bit disappointed because you really have no dirty secrets at all… Except the one of course but we don’t talk about it now do we.” 

“No we don’t and I’d really prefer to forget it,” Stiles immediately states in a serious tone and Lydia softens, her smile faltering.

“I didn’t mean it like that- I… I was just joking with you.” She shakes her head sympathetically, watching him with batted lashes.

“I’m sorry I… It’s a touchy subject. I know you don’t mean harm but really, it really just isn’t something I want to talk about.”

“I think you need to talk about because I don’t think sleeping with her is all there’s to it. You felt something, didn’t you?”

“Lydia, I said I’m not talking about it,” Stiles affirms and the subject is dropped, he makes sure of it. “You’re father wants to talk to you, he misses you a great deal and he’s upset that he missed our engagement party.”

“He said that?” Lydia asks surprised and Stiles nods as he moves to file some things away and she watches him, getting up and trailing over to him at his desk where he’s filing something in the top drawer. “Why won’t you talk about it with me?”

“Because… I… I don’t really know what you want me to say. I don’t know what you’re  _ expecting  _ me to say-”

“Are you afraid your emotions don’t meet my standards because that’s silly. You can tell me anything Stiles… I opened my heart to you.”

“And I will never forget that Lydia, bless your heart, really, but I’m not ready to do the same. I… You don’t know how hard it was to admit that much.”

“I don’t expect anything of you, you’re my future husband.”

“And you’re my future wife, but… If you really want to know, I don’t think what you’re asking is what I’d answer to. I never  _ felt for her.  _ And that’s where a lot of things stem off.”

“Things like what?”

Stiles doesn’t say anything in reply and his eyes just kind of veer off and Lydia is about to ask again but he shakes his head. “I don’t want to talk about this- not right now. I gave you your space with Jackson, I want space with this. Please…?” 

“Okay… Fine,” she agrees and he seems cold shouldered now, a little more closed off and she believes that the fences went up, that suddenly he was protecting himself and she’s almost afraid to touch him- she thinks he might be too cold to touch. She doesn’t want to think that about him, she doesn’t want to think Stiles is too cold to the touch. 

“It’s not you,” he says suddenly because he knows he upset her and he doesn’t want her to be upset and he’s afraid- oh god he’s so afraid; she must think he’s just as heartless as everybody else does- heartless for hurting girls, heartless for trying to protect himself, heartless and cold and brutal. 

“What are you thinking about?” Lydia whispers, stepping closer and she reaches up a hand to his neck and he leans into her touch as if he can breathe again and his forehead falls to hers, her left hand loops in with his, her right hand is pressed over his pulse, on the edge of his neck and she can feel his heart hammering, she can see that he’s upset but she keeps her eyes locked on his and suddenly she doesn’t see that he’s upset, she sees something else- something she had never seen before and she can’t match the face to the emotion.

“It’s a stupid thought.”

“I want to know, I want to know what it is.”

“I don’t want you to know-”

“Why?”

“Because it’s foolish and I’m not a fool.”

“Though, smart men can be foolish sometimes.”

“I can’t be foolish at all. I have no time for tom foolery.”

“You have plenty of time for plenty of things.”

“I have none, none at all.”

She shakes her head slightly but her brows furrow just slightly and she leans up to meet his lips and he kisses her slowly, he kisses her passionately. First its just lips and suddenly it’s more. Suddenly its hands in hair, tugging and grasping and pulling at clothes and she’s up against the couch and she feels nothing but his need for reassurance and she wants him so badly, there’s an aching inside of her and she wants to feel him- but they can’t, they both know it. 

He’s holding her down, their hands are suddenly laced, her hands are above her head and they’re just kissing, they really are just kissing- and she thinks she quite likes the taste of whiskey on his tongue, she thinks that whiskey never tasted better and really, it’s out of her control when she moans because he makes everything better- everything is bliss with him. Stiles is just as eager, he coaxes her mouth gently, he keeps her hands above her head but in a light grasp and her hands escape instictively, rushing up to meet the strands of his hair and she really wants to tug them in their curls but the feeling of cool gel isn’t so bad either, and his hair is always so soft- just so soft. The rock of his hips is gentle and it’s occasional, not constant. Their touching is gentle and fearful- she suddenly understands, he’s afraid.

Lydia pulls away from their passionate kiss slowly and his eyes flutter open confused. “Why are you afraid of me?” She asks in such a small, such a sweet voice, that he melts.

“Because nobody seems to be so human the way you are. You’re so passionate and so brave, I don’t deserve that.”

“You deserve everything,” she whispers and their lips meet again as he kisses her softly- if they were caught, they wouldn’t be allowed near each other unsupervised until their wedding but Stiles didn’t care. This was something new to him, he was feeling something he’d never felt before and he really didn’t know what it was- his heart was rampant and his mouth couldn’t seem to part from hers, he just wanted to kiss her until he felt drunk and never let go. But he didn’t feel desperate and he didn’t feel the need to touch her, to be touched, he just wanted to kiss her. So simple and so pure. Just to kiss her. To feel this strange new feeling, the one she only could give him. Though he shrugs it off and pretends he hasn’t felt it at all- it was something to think of another day.

But yet, he couldn’t stop because her lips part and there she is, moaning her soft moan and he thinks he could hear any part of her voice and he would become addicted to it’s sound. His tongue gently coaxes hers before their lips close on each other in a kiss again and her hands tug his hair (he notices that she loves his hair) and one of his hands keeps him steady over her body so he doesn’t hurt her and the other lays gently on her throat, caressing it’s soft, flush skin and he feels her heart beat beneath it. He thinks she’s the most precious and fragile girl he’d ever seen- no girl was as beautiful as Lydia Martin, especially the way she was now with her braid falling out and her soft moans clearing his every sin. 

  
  


Lydia walks into the room with all her confidence- she can’t bear to see her father like this. Trapped in a cell, in blanche clothing and miserable. He hasn’t shaved in so long, she thinks that his face looks scratchy and it never looked that way, not when she was a girl and not when she was a young lady, he was always presentable- except that now he’d changed and he looked like a man in a shell who’d taken the place of her father.

“Lydia,” he rasps. “I missed you so my dear,” he says as he stands and moves to hug her and she hugs him back- god does he reek of something miserable. She doesn’t like it, not at all, not when she had previously been embracing Stiles in the privacy of his temporary office here, he really did smell so much better than her father. 

“I missed you too Daddy.”

“I heard you’re not talking to your mom.”

“She hit me, I had stitches real bad.”

“Lord, she lost it- didn’t she?”

“I don’t know… I really don’t know but I don’t wanna go back to her.”

“She loves you, she does. She just… she has trouble showing it.”

“I don’t care, I’m so much safer at my home.”

“Your home?”

“With the Stilinskis. It’s my home now- and daddy, you wouldn’t believe, Stiles really is such a gentleman, he’s so sweet and talented and you know, I think he really loves me but he just is afraid to admit it. He… he’s so… i don’t know if words can describe what I feel for him.”

Her father nods and he has a watery smile. “Peaches I’m proud of you-” he said and Lydia laughs softly, she thinks that Stiles would call **their** kids peaches.  _ Sweet as peaches,  _ that’s what he always said.

“Thanks daddy- I know you’re here looking like this but I don’t think you’re a bad man. I think you were just trying to protect me. You just wanted to survive.”

“No love… Daddy is a bad man. You don’t see that now but I’ve done bad things.”

“We’ve all done bad things daddy, you’re no different.”

“Lord, where did I get such a daughter from?” It’s almost as if he’s really asking the lord and she has no answer from him. “When’s the wedding?”

“Stiles wants it to be in March.”

“March? That’s a strange month for a wedding.”

“He’s a strange kind of man.”

“Is he really? Why is he strange?”

“Oh I don’t know, he just likes quirky things like that. Off months, leap years, skipped days, strange holidays, he just likes the more peculiar things in life.” 

“I see. So you have him quite figured out, how impressive.”

“I don’t have anything figured out at all… It’s like one minute I know him and the next I don’t know anything at all about him. He’s so…”

“Strange?” Her father offers and she nods. 

“Yes, exactly that. Strange. Mieczyslaw Stiles Stilinski is strange.” 

 

Stiles is waiting in the office, tapping a pen when Lydia finally returns and she sits down beside him and he looks over at her. “How’d it go?” he asks curiously and she shrugs.

“He was really fascinated, wanted to make sure i was happy.”

“Are you happy?”

Lydia’s eyes soften a bit and she nods eagerly, taking his hand and kissing the knuckles of his fingertips, just along the small, almost blonde hairs that are there. “I’m so very happy, Stiles. I had never been happier.”

“Well i’m awfully glad you feel that way,” he mumbles, watching her kiss his knuckles. “What a strange girl you are.”

“How funny, I just said the same thing about you.”

“Really?”

“Really. I did. I was telling daddy how you’re very fascinated in the peculiar things in life.”

“Perhaps that’s why I like you so much. You’re one of the more peculiar things. Most girls are pretty easy to read and all but you’re just… something different. You’re peculiar.”

“Ah, see that makes so much sense now. I’m different, you like different don’t you?”

“Different is a real nice trait to have.”

“And other girls aren’t different?”

“All girls are different. But you’re… more different.”

“How so?”

“Just are. For starters you do have an attractive fullness while you’re probably not very full at all. Your cheeks are slim but your curves are favorable.”

“I don’t have much of a belly. I prefer it flat.”

Stiles makes a bit of a face. “Not even a little bit of one? I mean, too thin is really just a poor choice.”

“Well, I may be fattened by our wedding- T’any loves to dish out plates larger than life.”

“Mmm you shoulda seen when I was growin and thirteen. I’d have to eat three plates every meal time. No joke, made me finish all three in one sitting. Said i was grown and needed to be strong like papa.”

“I’d have died, I really would have.”

“Such a silly girl.”

She giggles and is holding his hand under chin before shifting and leaning her cheek there- she’s lucky his hands are big, they do make for a comfortable place to rest her head. “You’re a very comfortable man. Did you know that?”

“No I didn’t. I don’t really know what that means either.”

“It means you make for a good pillow.”

“Well I’m glad to hear I make for good sleeping amenities. Anything else i could provide?”

“Your love.”

“Sorry to tell you, I have none.” He grins and she grins back.

“You have plenty.” 

“I’ve none at all, dear.”

“You’ve too much love. You’ve all the love in the whole damn world.”

“Oh that’s really more than I’m able, really it is.”

“You treat yourself too lowly.”

“I treat myself fine.”

“You never did tell me what was wrong last night.”

“I don’t want to speak of bad things.”

Lydia nods and she wonders what goes in his head, she sees that momentary fear in his eyes but it’s gone as quick as it came and she kisses his knuckles again. “Can you sing me a song?”

“Can I sing you a song?”

“Yes a song.”

“Mmm I’m not so sure I want to.”

“But i do love your voice. Please sing for me.”

“You’re genuinely like a child sometimes.”

“I’ll only sing you a song if you climb a tree with me.”

“Climb a tree? Are you crazy?”

“No I’m not. There’s a big old sycamore tree in the woods by my yard, the cross between the gardens and the stables and it’s so fine and tall that if you climb towards the top you can see the expanse of the entire world. I learned all the world's secrets up there.”

“I will climb the tree with you.” 

Stiles nods and he sings for her. 

_ Lavender's Blue Dilly Dilly _

_ Lavender's green  _ _   
_ _ When I am king dilly dilly _ _   
_ _ You shall be queen _ _   
_ _ Who told you so? Dilly dilly _ _   
_ _ Who told you so?  _ _   
_ _ Twas my own heart, dilly dilly  _ _   
_ __ That told me so. 

  
  


Stiles leads her towards the tree and he looks up at it as they reach the base of the tree. He reaches up, grabs a branch and pulls himself up onto the nearest sturdy one, he pulls Lydia up with him, her feet scraping against the bark, hands grabbing a branch, pulling herself up until she reaches him and he helps her sit. 

“Why are we sitting?” She asks and he shrugs.

“I can’t reveal all my secrets at once.” 

“What do you mean?”

“Every branch holds a secret. Today I’m only going to tell you one of my secrets.”

“The secrets of the world?”

“The secrets of the universe. Don’t you know what they are?”

“No, I’ve never climbed a tree before.”

“You don’t have to to know them.”

“And what are they then?”

“They’re all the secrets and the lessons you learned for yourself- all the things you internalized, all the parts of people you noticed but never told, all the things in life that you saw but never spoke of, everything you ever learned but never vocalized, those are your secrets and when you die you go to heaven and heaven above the universe, but if you go to heaven or even hell, what stays is the secrets you kept. Those are the secrets of the universe.”

“And you’re going to tell me them? All your secrets?”

“Well… they’re all the non-secret secrets about me.”

“Then go on, what’s the secret on this branch?”

“It’s the first time I climbed up here, after my fathers father died- I had never been in so much pain and I remember, I sat here and hugged this tree for hours because he used to love this tree. Grandpa really did used to love this tree. And I hugged it, thinking it would bring him back and I cried for hours and hours until my parents came looking for me. Mama climbed up here with me, and told me that people die but when they die, they leave things behind for us. They leave a memory, a mark, and we are better people because they died. And you want to know a secret?”

“What’s that?”

“I still see him sometimes.”

“I… Don’t understand.”

“I see him, in my dreams, we sit together and for a while he’s with me again and we sit on this branch on the tree and he talks to me, he told me- take your time. That life has it out for me and that everything really will be alright. Everything comes and goes but I just have to keep moving forward. He was young and beautiful, more beautiful than anybody I’d ever seen. I don’t think I’ll ever know how I knew it was him but it really was him- it really was.” 

Lydia leans her head against him and she smiles softly. “You think the next time you see him you’ll tell him about me?”

“I think he’d love you. I’ll tell him all about you Lydia Martin.” 


	25. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angst and scandalous ab staring

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is genuinely one of my favorite chapters, the ending kills

Time was running out and he really felt like everything was starting to suffocate him. It was consistently question after question about what would happen and he didn’t know what to say anymore, didn’t know what to do. Everything was ready, he knew exactly what he had to do, what he needed to say but it all felt like it was being blown out of proportion. There were people talking all sorts of talk, there was a hype building around what would be a very mundane case. Stiles would have believed they were ready to lynch the northerner for committing such a crime- though Stiles didn’t want that. He just wanted a civilized case, like most of his cases. But he could hear it, he could hear the talk. People wanted Francis dead, people wanted Francis to be treated cruelly. People thought he was a negro lover, others thought he was a witch and some suggested he was a mormon. There was talk everywhere.

3 days left until the trial. Stiles was more nervous for such a simple trial than he was for anything.

 

“Surely you have some annotation on the outcome?”

“I don’t know anything, I have no true say,” Stiles lies and the man seems unconvinced. “The Jury has the final word. I just want to get my man’s land back.”

“And what about his punishment?”

“It’s yet to be decided.”

“Harvard really doesn’t teach you anything-”

“Harvard was a start to my career and frankly, you can take over the court case if you know so much about the law-”  
“You have to do some bidding, you gotta get your word in.”

“I do _not_ do dirty business sir, this is an honest court and we’re serving an honest case.”

“You’re no honest man, let’s be honest. All Lawyers are dirty workers.”

“I am working an _honest_ case and this will be an _honest_ trial,” Stiles asserts more darkly and the man looks at him with challenge and Stiles returns it. “Would you like to fight me on it or would you like to continue to insult me?”

“I think I should be going.”

“Go on then.”

Stiles sighs and the man is leaving the office as Stoker enters. “Don’t get your hopes so down, everything will work out alright.”

“I just don’t understand the big commotion about it.”

Stoker laughs and sits down beside him, resting the cane against the desk. “People just want something to talk about and what makes better gossip than a court case?”

“I guess you’re right.”

“Of course I’m right, old men are always right,” he teases and Stiles features melt into a smile. “I got some peaches upstairs, ripe and fresh from a farmer I know in Maryland, go get the bowl. You know I hate peaches.”

“How can you hate peaches?”

“They’re either bitter or sweet. There’s no in between and frankly, they just don’t taste good.”

“I think they’re heavenly.”

“Of course you do. Go get em and take em home for your mother.”

“Sure thing Stoker. I’ll tell her they were just from you and that you love peaches but you couldn’t bare but to give her some.”

“Oh please, that woman knows i hate peaches more than anything else on earth.”

“Well, it’s worth a shot ain’t it?”

“Yeah, worth the shot kid.”

Lydia was just out and about in the village, going to look for some books and some new feminists pamphlets and even a recent newspaper or two when she noticed three white men surrounding one of the enslaved black boys. He worked for farmer smith, though he visited Boyd quite often. The boy was doing anything, he just stood there peacefully when suddenly one white man punches him in the face. Lydia startles, drops her basket and runs over to him

“Hey! What are you doing to him?”

“Move little lady before I take you down to. This here runaway-”

“He’s not a runaway! I swear, I swear!” Lydia cries, kneeling to help him back to his feet. The young man was gushing blood from his nose and she looks to somebody to get him some napkins or something and another woman comes forward with a napkin for him.

“What are you defending a negro for? Get out of my way so I can take the runaway-”

“I’m not moving! You can’t have him!” Lydia cries defensively and the men seem less than amused and one pushes her out of the way to the ground, going at the young man again and Lydia scrambles up to pull him back, yanking at the yellow coat tails of the man and the man whirls around angrily and picks her up before shoving her back down and she squeals. “Stop! Don’t hurt him please! He’s not a runaway!” She begs and when he doesn’t listen she reaches for a whip on the ground and snaps the whip at his leg. The man cries out, holding the young man by the leg and the other two pick her up, Lydia squriming and trying to break free from their hold. The other woman was bleeding on the floor from being thrown against a brick wall.

Isaac sees the commotion and he instantly yells, “Lydia!” The two men ripping at her dress and shoving her around, tugging until her back is exposed, one man holding her, pressing to her breasts and she moves to kick him, screaming out in aggravation but the whip falls down on her back before she could escape. Isaac reaches her just as the whip hits and he’s infuriated, lunging at the man that hurt her, he pulls her away from Lydia who falls limp to the ground with a bloodied back. The man holding the slave spits at her back before punching David again and handcuffing as he falls to the ground.

 

Stiles hears the commotion from the office and the minute he hears Lydia’s name he packs a piston and dashes down to the square and moves to where he see’s isaac fighting with another man and Lydia limp on the floor bleeding, another man holding David Smith, a slave of Farmer Smith's and he stops a good 50 feet away and aims for the man who’s about to bear down the whip on Lydia again- and Stiles, born a perfect shot, shoots the man right in the middle of the side of the man’s head, where it was most dangerous. The other men stop in their spots and Stiles walks on over. Nobody dares to move.

 

The man escapes Isaac’s hold and scrambles for a grab at the whip again, the third man now holding Isaac back and nobody else had dared get involved with the violent, vicious men. “Dirty, Northy, Negro-loving, bitch!” He yells, raising the whip to and it almost reaches her back when a thunderous sound illuminates the town square and the man falls straight on his knees before passing out to the side near Isaac’s feets who’s scrambling and pushing the other man back out of fright, looking to Stiles, his slow steps over. Lydia is inert on the ground, shaking vigorously, unaware of what is happening- who was shot, why everything was suddenly so quiet.

“What have you done!” The man holding david yells before shoving David harshly into the concrete wall, where his head is bloodied and cut, and runs forward to stiles who steps out of his way before the man can get near him.

“What have **I** done? What are **you** doing? Look at this mess you’ve made! You hurt two women, you’re beating up a young man- you’re holding an already owned slave captive and beaten!” Stiles yells, a frightening edge to his tone. “And what Have I done? What am I doing? Look at this! Look at what you’ve done! My _Fiancee_ is bleeding on the ground- who are you to hurt a woman? Who are you to barge in here and start terrorizing my people? Go hold up with John Brown if you’re so fond of tarnishing southerners lives and git before I shoot you and your friend both.” Stiles voice drops lowly, glancing to the man holding Isaac, the man releasing his friend and goes to take the other man who turns before swinging and Stiles tosses the gun as he ducks, so it can’t be used against him. He knees up and gets the man in the crotch before throwing him over his friend's dead body.

“Who are you to treat me this way?” He yells, moving up to go at Stiles again who raises his arms and blocks him off.

“Richer than you, and certainly more powerful. I’m also a lawyer, I can manipulate my way through things.”

The man backs down, the young man before him means business and they retreat shamefully through the town, some of the men coming to grab the dead body. Stiles moving with Isaac to kneel beside lydia, her body laying limp in Isaac’s lap, and Stiles feared for a moment that she wasn’t alive at all, but he could see a stutter in her breath shake her body and relief washes over him. _She’s alive._

“Get her to the doctor, quick Isaac,” Stiles whispers as the Mayor and Stoker round off to see what had happened, Stiles kisses Lydia’s head softly, her hand feebly reaching to him and Stiles tucks it back in by her stomach. “I’ll be there soon,I promise,” he whispers, heart breaking slightly that she had to so constantly get hurt but he didn’t know what she expected getting in a man’s way like that, if she’d only gotten him first instead of stepping in… if only he noticed earlier…

“Stilinski! What the hell is going on here?” He asks, watching some women help the woman that had been helping Lydia, passed out against the building.

“Some men attacked Lydia and one of the woman from the outskirts of the village, were trying to take David Smith,” he says gesturing vaguely to the recovering black man, being helped by some of the other black men in market that day. “They attacked him and I think the women intervened, so the men attacked. Whipped Lydia straight on the back and attacked Isaac, he was about to go at it again so I shot him straight.”

The mayor sighs and nods, thinking for a moment. “You did what you had to, son. Y’all go check on your fiancee and I’ll look into the matter.”

“Thank you.”

  


Stiles rushes upstairs to the second floor of the hospital and the doctor stops him before he can enter and Stiles startles. “You should take a moment and calm down, she’s bled out an awful lot and she needs to rest.”

Stiles nods and bites his lip. “Is she going to be okay?” He whispers fearfully, his hands shaking as he tries to tug at his sleeves with his fingertips, looking at the older man with a plea in his eyes. The doctor nods with a small, sympathetic smile.

“She’s going to be fine, just needs to rest.”

Stiles nods and his body finally slows down, he feels heavy suddenly and he doesn’t want to walk in there and find the opposite, find her there barely breathing… he wavers for a moment as the doctor passes him and goes downstairs to where his office was most likely located and Stiles breathes in deeply before moving inside the room, with slow, shaking steps. Isaac is sitting on a chair by her side, watching her as she sits there, inert but awake. She glances over at him and she smiles.

“I’m okay,” she whispers, and she could see his fear- Stiles feels like a child, like one of his brothers. Fearing the worst with an active imagination, all the outcomes, everything that he could have done different.

“I’m sorry… I should have noticed sooner, I-I-”

“Stiles it’s not your fault,” Lydia says, reaching her hand to him, wincing slightly and he steps foreward taking her hand, lacing their fingers. “I should have called you first, I should have known better than to get involved.”

“Then again, what do I expect? You’re something else Lydia Martin- you wouldn’t have gotten me first if you had the chance to go back. You’re lucky they didn’t kill you.”

“She’s a real fighter,” Isaac pointed out. “She didn’t really go down until they whipped her.”

“I don’t know how anybody could survive them and walk fine. It hurts like hell,” she points out.

“Sad to say, I imagine some have just grown acquainted-”

They’re really avoiding the topic of slavery, they don’t want to talk about it yet they all know exactly what they’re talking about. “Who were they?” Lydia asks.

“Slave catchers, they think they can take whoever they want and sell them down the river.”

“Like the men who’d come to New York? They took a tailor once, he was really such a nice man and made such beautiful dresses- said they sold him down the river to kentucky.”

“Aye, they do it all the time,” Isaac explains grimly.

“Is… was the man… was he dead?”

Stiles bites his lip and he nods, eyes downcast and Lydia doesn’t quite understand. “Why did you kill him?” She asks.

“Those men wouldn’t have let up anyways… I got in a bad mess with one of them once, shot me in the side because I refused to shoot him. I still have the scar to show it.”

Lydia nods and she watches him for a moment. “You did what you had to?” she inquires, because she knows that what he might have said if he was thinking more clearly- she knows he did what he had to, he would never had just killed somebody- she believes him. Lydia always believes him.

“Something like that.”

“Truly, a creature of duty,” she cooes and smiles for him because she knows there’s blood on his conscious, she knows he feels guilty but Lydia really doesn’t know what else he could have done. Those men were stronger than him, they wouldn’t have listened, they would have killed him first. She didn’t want to think that it would have been his body lying inert next to hers, dead and lifeless and cold. She couldn’t think of that, of losing him. “That’s not a bad thing, either. Not many men do what they have to do, just what they want to do.”

Stiles huffs out a sarcastic chuckle, shaking his head. “You really the saint’s angel, aren’t you Lydia? At least I can be assured you’ll always see the best in me.”

“You didn’t kill him because he deserved to die- don’t punish yourself for it,” Isaac inserts, watching him with hurt tender eyes. “You saved the lot of us, we all would’ve been dead had you not hurt that man.”

“I didn’t have to-”

“Yes you did,” isaac inserts. “Don’t you remember what they did to Mister Lesher when he wouldn’t give up his black servant?”

Stiles nods and bites his lip. “I’m just rattled,” he assesses.

“It’s okay to be scared,” Lydia tells him.

“If anybody should be scared it’s you. I wouldn’t be surprised if you hitched yourself back to New York City.”

“And leave the greatest man in the world? I could never. Besides, I’m too far in to give up fighting.”

Stiles watches her with a new sense of admiration and his features melt into a genuine smile. “Besides, I whipped him first,” Lydia informs Stiles, who raises an eyebrow. “You didn’t think i was going to go down without a fight, did you? No man has a hold on a determined girl.”

“I’ll remember to never stand in your way. Lord, I think I’ll have to teach you how to really fight.”

“I think I did pretty well.”

“You could do better. There are ways to not end up in bandages,” Stiles informs, gesturing to her wrapped torso, her breasts hidden behind the bandages and the loose pants she wore under her skirts were on. “They didn’t… touch you or something did you?”

“No they didn’t,” Lydia says. “They mighta tried if I hadn’t been moving so much but really-”

“She let out something similar to a medieval battle cry,” Isaac informs with a laugh. “She was _really_ fighting. If the man hadn’t whipped her so fast, she probably would’a stood back up and bit him in the neck, ripped his throat out with her teeth.”

“See? You’re not the only one around here that can take charge,” Lydia tells him with a beaming look of pride and Stiles glances between the two.

“I really don’t think I believe either of you, look at her- she’s _innocent._ There’s no way _my_ Lydia was fighting somebody.” He laughs and shakes his head, sitting down on the edge of the bed. “My statement remains, I’ll have to teach you how to bite before they crack a whip.”

“Such a good man, really.” She giggles, squeezing his hand weakly and he raises her head and presses a kiss to her knuckles. Isaac smiles in wake of his friends, they really were good together. Though Stiles puts her hand back down on the bed and turns to Isaac.

“So I heard you and Beth Darcy have a _thing_ going on?”

“From who?” Isaac asks, brows furrowing as he tilts his head a bit, a peculiar smile on his features.

“Beth.”

“Makes sense, yeah we’ve been talking… I’ve been seeing her a couple times, supervised at her house of course. Her father likes me, and she likes me.”

“Do you like her or are you still stuck on Allison?”

“I like her, I like her a lot more than Allison.” Isaac smiles to himself, the memory of her on the swings, laughing gleefully like a child and her blue eyes bright in the late afternoon light. He _really_ likes her. Stiles smiles knowingly and Lydia watches the two- they really were one in the same those two.

 

Of course Lydia was admitted home an hour later, a robe draped over her and Stiles brings her home in the carriage, Isaac parting to go home himself. Stiles brings her to the kitchen like she requests and Stoker is in the kitchen talking with his mother over tea. Setting Lydia down, he grabs a peach and unlike his mother, who had a peach on the plate with a knife and a fork, he just bites into it and lydia giggles.

“Is it sweet?” She asks and Stiles shrugs.

“It’s not so bad. You should have one.”

“Are you alright?” Claudia asks Lydia.

“Oh I’m just fine, it just… it hurts,” she complains, sitting there without moving and stiles hands her a peach, she takes it and puts it on a plate, Stiles rolling his eyes.

“What’s it with women and eating fruit with forks?” He judges and Stoker laughs, Claudia giving him a look.

“What's it with men and being slobs?” Claudia retaliates.

“It’s passion,” Stoker inserts and Claudia shakes her head.

“Passion, truly,” she teases and Stiles shrugs, biting into the peach, slurping at the juices and Lydia finds herself fascinated with the way his mouth is on the peach, the way his tongue pressed to the bite it took, the way his lips seemed just a bit pinker, the way he was so careless about it- it wasn’t a thought, just an instinct. She wonders what started the obsession with peaches and why he loved them so much- she just watches him with a loving expression, not even touching his own and she realizes that he really doesn’t notice, that he’s just standing beside Stokers chair, listening to the conversation- and as far as Lydia’s concerned, she might be a bit wet on the panties from watching his mouth (and really, she doesn’t get why her body finds it so pleasing, she doesn’t know what his mouth could do to please her beyond touch her neck) and Stiles glances over and she meets her eyes and he grins, she flushes.

“I’m going upstairs to the study. Did you want me to get you a book or something?”

“No. I’ll let Brett carry me up.”

“Why Brett?”

“I don’t think you can help yourself, I’m barely dressed,” she says gesturing to her robe. Stiles rolls his eyes and shakes his head.

“Please, Lydia, you’re the one who’s staring all the time.”

“Not true!”

Stiles gives her a side glance and tilt of the head. “Whatever you say, Miss Martin, whatever you say,” he says airily as he wanders off to go to his office and Stoker watches him.

“Don’t work yourself out you nut!” He calls after Stiles.

“No promises!” Stiles calls back.

  


The trial comes around and Lydia is standing now, she’s better than she was before and she waltzes into his room in her navy blue hoop skirt dress, black lace gloves on her hands. Stiles is just doing up his belt, hair wet and he’s completely shirtless- Lydia pause as she watches him with wide eyes, Brett chuckling at her.

“Have you ever heard of knocking?” Stiles asks her, looking up.

“Wow you’re stomach is really toned,” she says aloud, staring at the defined muscle on his upper body.

“And I’m the one who can’t control myself!”

Lydia blinks and looks up at him, adjusting her sleeves, brushing them down. “I wanted to ask you something.”

“Well go on,” he says, pulling on a white t-shirt and tucking it into his pants, the belt still hanging undone, the button popped open.

“Uhm…” she glances down at his undone pants and Brett scoffs as he helps Stiles into the button up shirt.

“Should I leave you two alone?” Brett muses and Lydia rolls her eyes.

“Stiles would sooner go to hell than sleep with me- especially before convicting my father, that’s only awkward,” She informs. “I wanted to know if I could see him before he goes up- or at least during a recess.”

“There might not be a recess but I can assure you’re seeing him before he goes up, yeah sure.” Stiles agrees and he lets Brett move in front of him, tilting his head up a bit so the other man could button the shirt up and Lydia thinks the two are very comfortable with each other, like they’re perfectly in sync- it’s a strange notion, for her to see stiles so openly in sync with somebody. “Did you plan on staying to watch?” Stiles asks and Brett looks to her smiling.

“She’s interested in what you have to offer, I don’t blame her. I’d have sex with you.”

Stiles looks uncomfortably, lips pressed together. Lydia laughs. “Join our wedding night, it would be fun, don’t you think?”

“Oh I’d love to see _that._ A real deflowering.”

“I’m firing both of you from being part of my life,” Stiles comments.

“Firing me from your life as a friend or your valet?” Brett asks.

“Both.”

“Fiancee or other?” Lydia asks.

“Both,” Stiles agrees with himself, nodding. “Please leave me to dress alone now.”

Brett shakes his head. “Can’t do, I need to get paid. Besides, its a sin to fire an orphan. Good try though, I really appreciate it.”

“Of course ya do, Brett. Now hurry up before T’any whips me for being down late.”

 

It’s not until Stiles steps down from the carriage that he realizes the severity of the event, there were people from all over- people he knew and people he didn’t- that had come to see this man get convicted of a simple crime. It was really a do-nothing in the scheme of things, things could be better. But life was board, tensions were high and people wanted to watch the northy man get taken down. Lydia is soon behind him and people are yelling at her, people are trying to grab at her and Stiles protectively wraps his arm around her waist, police officers blowing whistles and backing them off.

“Why are there so many people?” She whispers. “You never said it was that big of a deal!”

“I didn’t think it was but I suppose things are worse than I suspected them to be. I don’t even know most of these people. I don’t know how they heard- or how they knew you.”

Stiles could swear somewhere amongst the crowds he spotted Jackson watching with a faint humor to his features and Stiles decides to face forward with an uncaring notion, his colder facade put up forward to the public as he pulls them through inside the courthouse. There he makes sure Lydia is admitted into the cell to see her father.

“I have to go but Stoker is going to be waiting for you before it starts to bring you to the court room.”

“Which side am I on?” she asks and he shrugs.

“I don’t know. That’s for you to decide Lydia.”

Lydia nods and she holds her head up high as she struts into the room and looks her father in the eyes. He stands to meet her, he’s in a suit now and she takes his hands. “There’s a lot of people here…” she informs him and he nods. “Not many people are on your side.”

“It’s already certain I’m going to lose.”

“And that’s okay. I will always love you.”

“But you love him too.”

“I do and my duty is to my husband- even if we’re not married yet, we will be soon…”

“I understand Lydia. I know what you mean. Is your mother here?”

“I don’t know. Please… don’t ever doubt me.”

“Never.”

She nods, and exits the cell, shuts the steel door and leans against it, waiting for Stoker to come get her. She fidgets with the fingers of her gloves, tugging them before pulling the fabric back on. She watches Stoker hobble over to her in his new suit (She remembers Stiles talking about how happy it made the old man to get a new suit since it’s been so long) And Stoker leads her down, and she stands between the pews: her mother is sat with her legs crossed with her head held high on her fathers side and Stiles was standing there at his table and she can see that he’s in his business mode and she realizes, she really does have a choice to make. There’s over 300 people in this room and they’re all whispering about her, she can feel it and Lydia takes in a deep breath, her mother turning to look at her at the sound of _martin’s daughter standing there like a fool_ and her jaw locks. She has a duty to her husband and she takes her place beside stoker and behind Stiles, the old man cackling at that.

“You really know how to make a statement,” he whispers as a picture is snapped of them and she smiles, Camera’s lined up around the courtroom, she can’t help but noticed how poised and unphased Stiles is. She admires him for it, she thinks he's the bravest person in the world. She loves him, and she doesn't regret standing beside him. Not once. 

  


  * Is this the first time you’ve stolen property?
  * Yes sir.
  * Is that so?
  * It is.
  * Evidence suggests otherwise. Are you lying?
  * It wasn’t stolen, they were just incorrect and disputed grants.
  * Disputed grants that were marked as stolen. Can you explain that Mister Martin?
  * I cannot.
  * Is there any reason you can think of why?
  * I’m targetted for my success.
  * And you firmly believe that?
  * I do.



 

The next day, it wasn’t Francis Martin who dominated papers, it was Lydia Martin and her decision, how she stood beside Stiles, pictures of him leading her inside, pictures of her standing on the defense side behind Stiles, pictures of her standing in the isle.

 _“Northern Belle Sides with the Southerners._ _  
_ _Lydia Martin chooses to stand beside_   
                         M. Stilinski instead of own father!”


	26. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Extra Extra, read all about it! Lydia Martin betrayed her father for M. Stilinski!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> at this point, writing the dialogue just feels like an instinct and I think I'm doing it wrong then I just realize that I'm not and that really, I'm just so used to writing it that it just happens  
> \-- IN OTHER WORDS PSA: so tomorrow I return from my 6 day weekend back to school for another 2/3 weeks of school. That means a lot of work, my final assessments, also it's going to be Ramadan and I'm going to be fasting- so yeah I'mma try to update everyday at least once everyday but I'm apologizing in advance if it becomes every two days until i'm let out of school. Ramadan really won't stop me, but like, I'm just warning y'all ahead.  
> anyways! Thank you for all the lovely comments, y'all are the best and I think you all are so kind and sweet and good hearted. Please continue to keep it up because I appreciate it so much! And enjoy this chapter, I might have another up tonight if I finish it (I started it) and if not, maybe by this time again tomorrow it'll be up, depending on my schedule

 

Stiles and Claudia were in the kitchen with Lydia, the girls dress and corset off her body and in her lap with dainty hands covering her supple, plush breasts that outweigh her hands easily. She gasps slightly as Stiles applies a bit of pressure as he cleans around the wound and he tries his best not to hurt her too badly, Claudia aiding him as he cleans her wound. “Press more gently,” Claudia guides and Stiles nods, trying to be more gentle with her.

Lydia whimpers as he soothes the cloth directly over the cut and he makes a pained face- he doesn’t like her being in pain, the way she curls up just a bit, the broken noises she makes. It makes him feel guilty, like he’s the one that hurt her, and Stiles really would never hurt her at all. He never wanted to.

“Madame Stilinski, somebody is at the door,” Boyd announces as he enters the room. “Is it an appropiate time to let him in?”

“Yes of course, let them right in, we’re just about done Boyd,” Claudia tells him and nods, returning to watching Stiles clean off the wound. “Can I have the wrap?” he asks and his mother hands him the bandage wrap. Stiles helps Lydia stands and he takes the wrap, his mother on the other side and they rewrap her upper body. They’re still helping her redress when Jackson Whittemore walks in, striding in confidently to see the offending view of a girl he’d seen naked before, watching her get wrapped up.  

“What the hell kind of sin are you committing?” Jackson asks, watching them with sheer horror and Stiles turns around and looks at him confused.

“What are you talking about? I’m just wrapping her wound.”

“What wound?”

“She got a cut on her back and I was cleaning it and now I’m wrapping it up again,” Stiles explains and he could see Lydia shifting uncomfortably as she stands there, waiting.

“Jackson, do you mind leaving?” Lydia requests. “I’d really rather you not see me practically naked.”

“It’s nothing I haven’t seen before,” Jackson replies. “How did she cut her back?”

“Well surely it ain’t your business, Boyd! Bring him down to the drawing room!” Claudia calls, ushering the young man out. Jackson is ready to argue but he’s soon greeted by Boyd who looks less than amused with the young man.

Stiles is in the kitchen, eyes focused in on her body as he paces around her body in a repetitive motion, tying the bandage off at the start of her hips and end of her red cut. “Do you need help with your dress?” He offers, pushing her hair out of her eyes before moving to take the rag and the bandages to Charlotte and moves to the heavy wooden basin to wash his hands. Lydia waits for him to return, Claudia reentering and watching as Stiles dries his hands before moving to help put Lydia’s corset back on. He ties it with skillful, long fingers and loops each one with a bow (he doesn’t have to but it pleases him) and then he helps her but the dress on, laces the back up with it’s strings and then ties a bow at the end.

“This is fine right? Not too tight or anything?”

“No it’s just fine,” Lydia assures and she turns to face him. “I don’t have to see him right?” She asks blinking up at Stiles with big eyes. “He’s going to ask to be alone and I don’t want to be alone with him, really I don’t.”

“You beat up a slave catcher and you can’t be alone with a sissy middle class boy?” He cooes, smirking slightly. “I will never understand you Lydia Martin. But you don’t have to be alone and you don’t have to see him.”

“I don’t want to… But I will if you promise not to leave.”

“I promise,” Stiles agrees and kisses the top of her head, Lydia leaning into his body with her arms folded up against his lean stomach. She intakes his scent and she really still can’t figure it out- it’s something fresh and something expensive, but she changes her mind with the thing about the trees. And Stiles has his nose nuzzled in the top of her head, which smells a lot like his mother’s soap- something sweet and floral, he thinks that he likes it a lot- it suits Lydia.

Claudia clears her throat, the two parting from each other. Lydia and Stiles turn to meet her and she narrows her eyes a bit in amusement. “I’m not gonna ask but y’all should get on goin, he’s in the north drawing room by the entrance.”

  


Allison is sat to a late second breakfast with her father when he reads aloud the newspaper heading. “ _New York City’s Lydia Martin betrays her Father for M. Stilinski._ Now who’d’a thought people would be so bitter?”

“Ah it aint’ nothin,” Gerard cuts in. “They just want to make a big fuss for no reason. Do they even know the two are engaged?”

“I don’t think many’d be happy to know,” Allison says, picking at the fruit in her dish. “What does the article say, daddy?”

“It say’s,” Chris starts, pausing before continuing, “Born Southerner M. Stilinski takes a stand against Francis Martin, a man who allegedly and was confirmed to have stole land from a local. Stilinski took the stands with a riveting amount of force and made his point clear that the man was nothing but guilty and although Stilinski was show stopping, what really got the room was Martin’s Daughter, known to be Lydia, had stood in the isle for five minutes and counting before taking a seat beside Stilinski’s mentor. The details to her relationship with Stilinski have yet to be revealed but his entrance with her and the talk of them seen together consistently after suggests the two are involved in a ‘steamy romance’ with one another. He’s all but seeing her either in secrecy or courting her-” Chris stops reading as Gerard clears his throat.

“There’s another one here- it says ‘ _Francis Martin Proclaims That His Daughter Was Standing to What She Believes True: Northern Girl is anti-Abolition?’_ Says they think she’s makin a political statement or something. Somebody oughta tell the bastards she’s just hopelessly in love with Miezech.”

Allison scoffs and stabs at a strawberry before slipping it off the fork into her mouth. “Mm somebody oughta to tell them Stiles is hopelessly in love with _her._ Or… at least he will be. She’s been denying my company but I think I’ll force my way in today to see her.”

“What happened anyways?” Gerard asks before spooning in another spoon of oatmeal. Allison shrugs vaguely.

“From what Isaac told me, some Slave Catcher’s were takin David Smith and she jumped in and tried to save him. Stiles walked in and shot the guy attacking her, got him before he could whip her again. Isaac has a bad cut on his arm, but I dunno if that’s from the catchers or his daddy,” Allison informs.

“What ever happened to Isaac?” Gerard asks. “He was such a nice boy, why don’t you talk to him anymore? He’s much more polite than that mexi-tex boy… what’s his name? Stuart?”

“Scott granddaddy,” Allison corrects. “And I suppose he found another girl. He’s been spendin an awful lot of time with Elizabeth Darcy and Karen Rothman. I think he’s courting them but to say which he’ll end up with, I don’t really know. Or perhaps he’s courting Miss Darcy and just speaks to Karen as a result.”

“Why Darcy and not Miss Rothman?” Chris Argent wonders and Allison shrugs.

“I don’t know really, just the way he tends to gaze at her- it’s like he’s in love.”’

“Are you jealous, my dear?”

“I don’t know. I just hope Scott doesn’t change his mind about me.”

“I doubt it. He loves you, I can tell,” Chris assures and pats her hand and she smiles.

  


Lydia is sitting beside Stiles, Jackson in the chair across from them and the silence is so heavy you could cut circles out of the air. Her hands are folded in front of her and Stiles is boredly picking at the lint in the chair as the servant pours them hot coffee in cups and passes each made cup to it’s person. Once she’s gone, that’s when Jackson starts.

“I want to talk to Lydia alone.”

“Whatever you can say to her, you can say to me,” Stiles cuts in. “I’m not leaving.”

“Oh I’m not going to do a thing- I just want to talk to her, you know, one on one?”

“Lydia would prefer not to. You can talk to her one on one while I’m in the room.”

“That defeats the purpose- you’re quite thick minded and who said Lydia didn’t want me here? Look at her fidgeting in her chair like that, she’s just dying to get away from you.”

Lydia looks up at him at that and then looks to Stiles who seems utterly unphased but Lydia is not, she’s angry and she stands up and is about to storm out of the room when Jackson grabs her arm. “Where are you going?” he demands.

“Away from you! You have no _right_ to brandish my fiance as if he is a criminal done wrong when he’d never _dare_ step in my way or hurt me. You just grabbed me for god’s sake! Who gave you the right-” She twists her hand to grab his wrist and pulls down so her arm breaks free and his wrist is in pain- he makes a mortified sound of defeat and Stiles is watching with impression as he stands to the side, “- To grab him as if i’m yours? You’re the one I’m trying to get away from.”

“Well then I guess you’d be happy to hear that I can give all our affairs details to the press and make it out to be anything I want- you’d be tarnished for life.”

“And what would you be?  Appraised for a whore?” Stiles inquires, both looking to him. “If you harm one perfect, strawberry blonde hair on her head, one misguided publication and I swear to god the whole world will know about what a dirty, lying, cheating, cruel bastard you are and I’ll make sure of it. I have that sort of power- _Everybody_ knows me and what I say practically becomes law. I could tarnish you and walk out without a drop of blood on my hands. Just try to do something and you’ll see- that’s if you don't ruin yourself first.”

“Are you threatening me?”

“Are you threatening her?”

Jackson’s eyes narrow and he looks to Lydia who is standing with her arms over her torso, he sees that she’s looking to Stiles with an intensity and he can’t make out what’s going on in her head or what the expression on her face is seeking but Stiles can see it- she needs him, she needs him to get Jackson away, he can see her fingers gripping the wrist, seeming to be folded humbly over under her bosom, but really she was fidgeting and seeking a sanction.

“I think you should stay out of my business Slave Owner.”

“I think you should back off Lydia, Mister Whittemore,” Stiles tells him in his very business like, cold voice, the same one he used in the court case and Jackson gets chills, that was the same tone that took a man down within an hour of a case- the other lawyer had no cases to rule him over with. Stiles was precise with the venom he handled, that was no secret.

“Everybody is talking about her, she’s a traitor.”

“She’s loyal, she didn’t betray anybody.”

“She betrayed her father-”

“Said who? You don’t know my father!” Lydia accuses, stepping forward but Stiles cuts her off and lets her strut into his arms before she could go for Jackson in a single swooping step. She looks up at Stiles angrily, warningly.

“Lydia he’s not worth the fight- revenge is fleeting, you’ll feel better knowing you didn’t strangle him.”

“I won’t feel any better than I do right now. What does he know! My father loves me, I love him- I would never **_betray_ ** my father and he knows that! He knows what I did was right!”

“And that’s all that matters,” Stiles soothes in a hushed voice and he can see the angry tears collecting in her eyes. Jackson scoffs.

“What a romantic- how long is it going to last before you lash out on her?”

“My whole life- I was raised not to hit my woman- but I suppose you were taught otherwise. How many times have you raped her? How many more had you hit her?”

“She’s a liar- I never raped that bitch. And if I did she damn well deserved it.”

“And you damn well deserve to be shot in the head but I don’t have a piston against you at the moment, do I?”

“ Make him leave,” Lydia whispers. “Make him go, _please.”_

“I’m going to make sure the world has it all out against her- you’ll see!” Jackson threatens.

“And I’ll make sure you’re left defenseless. Go on, talk, talk to whoever you want. But I’ll have it out for you before you even know.”

Lydia can’t take it anymore, she pushes Stiles away and runs out of the room in her dainty flats, going upstairs and collapsing on her bed in tears. Her life would be over if anybody got word of what she did- she knew how Jackson worked, he wouldn’t stop until he got his way and Stiles… oh poor stiles was just defending her but Jackson would get there first, there’s no stopping him.

She breaks into her pillow clutching.

 

It’s the second Brett shuts the door that he smiles.

“Boyd told me about his threats the minute he charged them and I telegraphed the news stations saying that you would like to talk about a certain gossip on Jackson Whittemore who has a rather dirty secret inside the case- I also said that Jackson had wanted to speak on you and not to take him tomorrow. You have an appointment at 4, another one at 6 and the rest are scattered tomorrow.”

“And has anybody spoken back?”

“Well we’ll see. They can’t deny the talk of the nation, anyhow.”

Stiles nods and then grins and pulls Brett into a close hug, embracing him tightly. “I can always rely on you- can’t I? Set out some fine suits, I must get ready for this.”

“Of course you can, that’s what friends do,” brett informs. He’ll always feel closer to Stiles than a brother but pushes it aside and embraces him back. “Take that sinner down for messing with Lydia, she really is sweet as peaches and ain’t nobody getting their hands on her.”

“I’ll be sure of it,” Stiles promises. “Where is she?”

“I don’t know but she ran upstairs. Probably her room.”

Stiles nods and heads upstairs with a slow step, deciding that she might need some time before he barges in when Kasper almost knocks into him. “Whoa there-” He mumbles before looking to his grandson. “What’s with the sour face? It’s only 11 AM.”

“I just got into a fight with Jackson Whittemore. I have business to take care of.”

“Ah I see, need to talk to Lydia? That poor girl is just taking one hit after another- and to think the whole damn world is talking about her because she sat one side instead of another. Who cares?”

“Everybody it seems.”

“She made a statement, and not just her love for you- it may have been that between you two but the rest of the nation? She did something nobody would dare to do. Not in times like these.”

“I get it… she took a risk and now she just has to be strong enough to go through with it.”

“There is nothing she wouldn’t endure for you- would you do the same?”

Stiles looks up at his Grandfather and he thinks for a moment. “I would. I would endure anything for her.”

 

Lydia doesn’t look up when the room door enters, sprawled over her red satin sheets in an informal fashion as she sniffles, hugging one of the longer pillows tight. The weight of the bed shifts and she feels a gentle but large hand settle on her arm and she knows the caress by heart- Stiles.

“You know that if there are angels playing on organs and standing at every church door, than I firmly believe that there are two angels at each doorway waiting to open them for you and another two on your shoulders protecting you, Lydia Martin, the Hail Mary of all women.”

She looks up at Stiles with a baffled look, a tender look and he kind of smiles. “How are you so sweet sometimes? Who thinks of these things for you?”

“Nobody. It’s what I believe.”

“Is it truly?” she whispers and he nods, his hand slipping up to caress her jaw as he settles down next to her, lying beside her and she adjusts herself to be comfortable in his touch. “What happened?”

“Boyd and Brett have telegraphed every news station that I can reach, either by train or other and I will be speaking out against him before he can even book. Nobody will take him until two days from now and by then every paper will have published things about him.”

“He’s an adopted orphan who was born out of wedlock, just if you were wondering.”

“So he really is a damn bastard.”

“A bastard, a cruel, dirty, Bastard.”

“Don’t speak poor on people, god forbade it,” he teases ands he gives him an unamused look and he sighs. “I’m sorry… can i do anything to make it better?”

Lydia shakes her head before curling into him. “Perhaps you can heal the ache of my poor heart by granting me a long drawn kiss.”

Stiles laughs slightly before tilting her head and pressing his lips to hers- it doesn’t take much for passion to seize them and their kisses overwhelm the other, her body once more pressed to pillows but this time on a bed and they only part- in a quick fashion when the door knocks, the two hurriedly pulling themselves back together and lounging up casually as his mother walks in. Her eyes narrow suspciously and Stiles clears his throat.

“Is everything alright?” She pokes.

“I was just telling her about how I had some meetings with the press later today.”

“Oh? Since when?”

“It’s a long story but I’m cutting to the chase before the chase cuts me.”

“I see.” Claudia nods. “And I have no reason to be suspicious of your abstinence?”

“What are you talking about?” He plays off innocently both looking her with wide, confused looks, Stiles especially convincing with his slightly pouted lower lip and an edge of mistrust in his words. “We were just talking.”

“Of course, _just_ talking.” Claudia glances between them. “Don’t make me become untrusting of you two.”

“There would never be a reason to Madame,” Lydia assures and Claudia nods.

“Stiles love, go, I want to talk to her alone.”

Stiles nods and he leaves the room in a hurried fashion, Lydia could see the slight restraint in his pants that was there now that wasn’t there before and she has to bite back a smirk of triumph. “Is everything alright Mrs. Stilinski?”

“Just fine. I just wanted to make sure you were alright. I know that Whittemore boy is rather trying. He didn’t hurt you did he?”

“He grabbed at my arm but I escaped just fine, and Stiles stepped forward before he could do anything to me.”

“Bless my babies heart, he’s ever brave,” she compliments her son and Lydia nods in eager agreement. “You know what you did yesterday… that’s real brave but now people got they eyes on you- you gotta be real careful. I reckon that you gotta be real sure in your step and I talked with Boyd and I talked with the other servants, we don’t want you leavin the house alone. It could get scary- especially if abolitionists like Brown done got themselves down here- they might hurt you like those men. I don’t mean to scare you or nothin, just don’t leave the house without a man or Allison around. Alright?”

“Alright, Mrs. Stilinski.”

“How many times I told you to call me your mama? You are my daughter in law after all.”

“Soon to be, mama.” She giggles. “Soon to be.”

“Already comin. When Stiles gets home we gotta set a weddin date.”

“I think he’ll be awfully tired.”

“He’ll be just fine. Everythin will be just fine.”


	27. chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jackson Whittemore is Jackson Whit-no-more BAD DUM TSSHHHH *finger guns* (what do you mean my summaries can't be puns? of COURSE THEY CAN BE THAT'S THE WHOLE CHAPTER IN A JOKE!!!)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LADIES AND GENTLEMAN YOU COULD HAVE BEEN ANY WHERE IN THE WORLD TONIGHT BUT YOU'RE HERE WITH US IN VIRGINIA (virtually) WELCOME TO A SOCIAL BATTLE!!!  
> OUR COMPETITORS TONIGHT NORTHERNER JACKSON WHITTEMORE  
> "turn around, bend over, I'LL SHOW YOU WHERE MY SHOE FITS"  
> AND SOUTHERNER STILES STILINSKI  
> "Oh if the shoe fits wear it, if New Yorks corrupt, why should Virginia care for it?"  
> {see what I did there? I wrote this chapter while doing homework and listening to Hamilton. Inspired by Cabinet Battle #1}

MS: Well of course, I didn’t even invite the man inside my house before he came in attacking me while we were just speaking in the kitchen. When he runs in like a crazy man, claiming that I must be doing something wicked to her because we were just sittin in the kitchen, talkin and all. So we had him escorted to the drawing room and we go and he lunges at Lydia-

IN: Now can I ask you what your relationship is?

MS: Well I’d rather not discuss my personal life with her but she’s my fiance, we officially engaged a few weeks back.

IN: And that’s why she sat beside you?”

MS: I couldn’t answer that for her, there are plenty reasons she could have but when I asked, she said she had a duty to me. 

IN: I see. Continue with the story.

MS: Anyways, we enter the drawing room and he goes at Lydia, immediately stating how he was going to tarnish her reputation and exploit her for a whore when really, in private, she had told me he used to beat her and use her, claiming he loved her and all- you should’a seen how scared she was when he yanked her by the arm, looked pale as the dead if you ask me, almost started cryin. He starts screamin at her and he won’t let her go- i had to break them apart before he really hit her or somethin, you know? She got real scared and ran to her room-

IN: what did he say to her?

MS: said somethin along the lines of ‘you’re a dirty, filthy, whore and a traitor. When I get my hands on you, you’ll be ruined for good.’ So of course, i wasn’t going to let it happen.

IN: What did he say to you?

MS: A dirty slave owner, immoral, dirty, rapist, idiotic, cruel, dirty, no good southerner.

IN: He didn’t.

MS: he did. He said that, really and tried to attack me. So I thought if he was going to publish some lies in the press- it was my job to come out with the truth on him.

IN: it’s only fair. 

 

Stiles did this 8 times in the 48 hours of Jackson’s visits, filing detailed and undetailed stories, some where Lydia had even come along and broke into sobs, to play on the horror of her abuse (and though had to build up tears, it relieved her because really, she never got to speak and be pitied for what happened), and the men in those rooms would croon and get angry and would write down their every word, and make sure to note she broke into horrid sobs each times and how Stiles had to comfort her. Though some might call her a liar, nobody doubted Stiles and Stiles was proud that he could offer the truth so freely, to expose men’s horror to the world and advise against it.

“Why does this upset?” one man asked him and Stiles thinks for a moment, connecting his thoughts.

“Because for the rest of her life she’ll think I’ll hit her for not gettinng my way, I’ll use her if she doesn’t want to comply and I’m not okay with that- I love her, and if you love her, you would never use her. You would never go out of your way to hurt her. That’s not love. Love is a matter of having patience and kindness in every bone you possess. Love is not taking what you want when you want because ‘she loves you’ or ‘you love her’ because that’s a betrayal of trust. That’s a betrayal of love. The ones you love should never fear you. And I never want to see Lydia scared- it upsets me because he grabbed her in front of me as if he owned her, and yet he claims that owning slaves is bad- but what does acting like owning a woman repercus? Isn’t it the same?”

Lydia heard it and when they left, going down to the carriage that would take them to the train, she linked arms with him and watched him. “Do you believe that? What you said?”

“Which part? I said a lot of things, i’m pretty sure.”

“About men acting like they own woman.”

“Of course I did. You should never have to be afraid of me, I don’t own you- you’re not  _ ‘mine’  _ so to speak- I didn’t purchase you or something horrible like that. It’s just as bad.”

“You’re an abolitionist and a feminist,” she notes and he raises an eyebrow.

“In beliefs, sure. Everybody knows that.’

“Do they really, though? Or do you just say what appeases people and this is really the first word on your own beliefs that you get in? I think we’ve both found some freedom in light of the situation.”

“Perhaps…” he says, helping her into the carriage before entering himself. They sit on opposite sides and she hates it, her dress splayed over the seat and she folds it in. She wants to be closer to him, she reaches her hand out and he stares at it for a moment before he takes it. Holding her hand in his, just feeling how it weighs in his hand, his thumb sliding over the cool metal of the ring he gave her and she takes a deep breath, watching him with dreamy eyes. 

“I can’t wait until we're married and I can kiss you and hold you all I want and nobody could stop me from touching.”

Stiles laughs and shakes his head. “I bet you’re dying for me to get my hands on you.”

“You seemed really excited last night,” she comments and Stiles rolls his eyes.

“Not really excited, minimally excited. I wasn’t even  _ hard. _ ”

“You were hard enough to show a bit.”

“Just to you who keeps a watchful eye on my crotch.”

“Mmm have you ever measured to know? Just a faithful question.”

“Well I bet you’re dying to know but I haven’t- I would never need that sort of information, Lydia.” 

“You do need it, right now.”

“Why do you need it?”

“So I have something to dream about,” she teases, leaning over to kiss the corner of his mouth and he smirks. 

“Don’t tease me, i don’t  _ deserve  _ it. I’ve been so good to you.”

“And I’m returning the favor,” she whispers, moving over to sit in his lap, Stiles glancing her over briefly before breathing in deeply and exhaling. 

“Don’t even think about it- mother’s starting to catch on, on all the steamy embraces you insist on having. Besides, we’re in a carriage, are you really going to lift up your skirts here when anybody could see or here or find out from these people?” 

“Hmm you make a good point.”

“Besides, I think I’m going to call money on you being unable to wait.”

“Oh you’re just so pretty- don’t tell me you’ve never thought of walking in on me naked before.”

“Hmm I could admit it, sure, but your pride would swell and why on earth would I want that?”

“Is that what you’re going to say to me in bed? ‘Oh sure I could let you orgasm but why do that? Your pride will swell’.”

“To be fair, it’s not the only thing swelling.”

“Stiles!” 

“I’m just saying,” he counters laughing. “Alright, alright, enough with your raunchy banter. You’re going to make me feel all sums of guilty for talkin so foul.”

“Good, I hope you feel bitter.”

“I always feel bitter, I’m like a fine coffee.”

Lydia’s body folds over as she shakes with laughter, moving back to her seat she shakes her head. “Well at least fine coffee’s can be sweetened.”

“Oh but they trick you- under all that sweetness, there lays an aftertaste of the bitter coffee.”

“It is like you, quite so.” She giggles gleefully and watches him. “You know, I feel a lot of things for you but fear is not one of them.”

Stiles softens and he takes her hand and kiss the ring on her finger. “Good.” 

 

Allison comes over later that night, entering the drawing room where Lydia is alone reading a novel. She sits down and nudges her. “Lydia I thought you loved me.”

“Of course I love you.”

“Then why haven’t you seen me?”

“I was busy destroying Jackson’s life and being in tremendous back pain. We had to stop an interview because of it.” 

“Oh lord, it’s that bad?”

“Well, I was whipped.” 

“Right… How are you then? Not too ill, I hope?”

“Oh I’m serving all right. What about you? Scott left, didn’t he?”

“He did… he just had to go home, that’s all.” 

Lydia sits up and takes her hand. “Did he really? Or was it more?” 

Allison shrugged innocently. “He said he just needed to head home and that he’d return soon.”

“Why does it hurt you then?”

“I forgot that I didn’t have to live without him.”

Lydia giggles annd kisses her head softly. “Well, he’ll be with you soon and you should hope that you marry. Pay Isaac a visit, shan’t you? Actually, he’s joining us for dinner tonight if you want to. Him and Elizabeth Darcy.”

“They’re coming together?”

“Yes, they are, I suppose.” 

“Oh… y’all didn’t invite us?”

“Well we didn’t know- Odette went over to invite Isaac and Isaac requested Elizabeth and her family be invited too and Claudia, who went too, agreed it would be a nice little party.”

“I see.”

“I can ask.”

“Not at all, enjoy yourself. She’s a nice girl.”

“I heard. Stiles talks about her sometimes.”

“He used to like her a lot, it was almost silly.”

“Is that so?”

Allison nods and shrugs. “Used to talk about her before he met you all the time- how beautiful and kind Beth Darcy was. He thought she was the cutest thing- thought he would’a married her before they turned nineteen. But here we are, and I guess God really had it out for ya, saving him for ya and all.”

Lydia nods and she wonders for a moment if Stiles still wanted Beth, or if he had acted with Beth the way he acts with her, though the notion is fleeting before she turns her attention back to Allison. “Anyhow, what have you been up to? I was wondering if you wanted to join a charity with me.” 

“A charity?”

“Yes, there’s a charity club just out in the city and I wanted to know if you wanted to join it with me?”

“Well sure I would like to. What kind of charity?”

“Oh I haven’t looked into all the details yet, of course, I wanted to go down there with you and get them- if you don’t mind.”

“Perhaps maybe after your honeymoon, the wedding is sooner than you think and you don’t want to worry yourself out.” 

“Oh sure, I suppose you’re right… Just that I don’t like sitting around all day. I want to do something. I want to do all sorts of things.”

“Well if ya come over, I’ll teach ya how to cook and how to sew and how to fight and all sorts of things.”

“Would you really? I wouldn’t want to take up your time Allison.”

“Oh it’s not like there’s anything to distract me anymore.” 

“Well if that’s the case, besides everyone is quite busy and I think I’ve read almost every book that’s in the library. Isn’t that a good time?”

“Oh marvelous. Find anything of interest?” 

“Well it’s all quite the same- most of them are scholar-y or mundane stories, biblical, or an attempt at something horrific. A lot of history- Stiles adores history aparently, a few off chance things about off chance events or whatever. A lot of law and enforcement books and I found this one book that was quite strange but I never got to ask him about it and I really don’t think it’s my place to tell. I just thought it strange, or even out of place that he had it.” Her eyes it seemed like he’d written it himself, the way it was all handwritten or rather it was given to him- she couldn’t tell. She didn’t see why anybody would have such a book, but then again, it was Stiles’ business and not hers. She wonders if it has anything to do with anything- she thinks for a second in silence before dropping it. “I need new books, and I need more things to do. I’ll become obese if I just sit around here all day.”

“Oh you need a little meat on your bones. If you were any thinner, ,Stiles wouldn’t give you a passing glance. He’d think you’re unimpressively thin and unhealthy. You wouldn’t want that, now would you?”

“I like being thin, I’m even accumulating a belly. It’s quite horrible.”

“You’re  _ so  _ dramatic, there’s nothing wrong with a little meat on your bones.”

“No I s’pose not.”

 

Elizabeth Darcy, Lydia notes, is very beautiful. She has this certain tender and exotic beauty that no other woman she knew had. There was a gentle way about her and she defined charming- she was so bubbly but not too bubbly, she smiled but not too much to be too forward. She was… everything Lydia had been advised to be and she was all of it with ease. She flirted with Stiles and Isaac alike but never was she over coming. The more she watched her the more Lydia wished to be her- she could still see hints of admiration in Stiles eyes, the way he laughed and poked at her with fondness. There was no temper to him, he was absolutely relaxed tonight and she wondered how she could possibly be like Elizabeth, how she could have such an effect, be so poised. It’s when the two are alone that she asks. 

“I just wanted to know what your secret was, you’re so balanced,” Lydia says as they sit alone, waiting for dinner with tea.

“Balanced? Why I have no idea what you mean!” 

“You’re so… you- well I don’t know how to explain it. It’s like you don’t cross any boundaries. You just have so much control and you’re so poised.”

“Well you’re a charm yourself Miss Martin! You know I can really see the way Stiles admires you from the way he looks at you. You know he’s real charmin.”

“Yeah…” Lydia nods, eyes downcasting. “I just, I feel like I’m holding him back sometimes. He had wanted you and I see why- you’re everything he would want-”

“Is that what this is about? Of course, we used to fancy each other but nothing became of it. It was a childish love and it wasn’t really love at all- we just liked flirtin with each other because we were real young and real pretty and liked to drink lots and get drunk together lots. We never done nothin or anythin but we had fun- that’s all. He likes you for you, he don’t want a girl like me, he wants a girl that can be a girl like herself. You think he reach his arms further than they can reach for just anybody? He fancies you more than he ever fancied me.”

“I don’t believe that. I just… I want to make him happy.”

“And you are. You just have to learn to live with each other, that’s all.”

“I think I’m too forward and I can’t do anything on my own. I can’t cook or clean or bake or sew or even do the wash- what if we decide to live out on our own one day? What if we go to the country and have to live on our for a while? I can’t do anything, I’m disappointing.”

“Oh none of that- he’d take up all of it. You weren’t raised do none of that, and we were raised to do anythin even with the slaves around. After my mama done left we moved into an apartment and I only kept my chamber maid, Lily and daddy kept a housekeeper. But other than that I know how to do things on my own-”

“And I don’t. You can say that,” lydia cuts her off, before feeling self conscious, as if she was talking too much. God for somebody who was eager to improve, she wasn’t improving much. 

“Oh posh, he doesn’t care if you can or can’t!” 

Lydia bites her lip and looks off in abandonment. “Lydia, he doesn’t love me, I promise it. Besides, I don’t do much of that stuff anyways. I know how  but I’m not good at it, anyhow. I just know it. Like Isaac won’t let me touch a plate in his house because once i dropped one and broke it on accident or once I burned the syrup for the pie when I was helping Ninny bake. See? I’m no good.”

“And i’m no better,” Lydia agrees, Elizabeth giggling.

“There you go. Maybe Ninny can show us how to be wives. Bring T’any too. Ninny and T’any used to be real close- worked here but after momma left, Ninny felt real bad and left Dubrowsky for us. She real sweet, I love ninny. Better than my own mama ever was.”

“She used to work here?”

“Sure as daylight. Could tell you all about Stiles as a child.”

“Well I wouldn’t pass that up, sure I’d love to come over sometime. I enjoy your company.”

“And I you,” Elizabeth teases in an accent similar to Lydia’s own royal one and they burst into girlish giggles and laughter. It isn’t long after that that they are called to dinner.

  
  


Jackson enters the establishment and sits with a reporter. He begins his side of the story, although he has a lie or two in mind and if you ask him- they’re pretty good. 

“Well I’m complied to tell you that Lydia Martin is a first class whore. You know what she did? She used to beg me to have sex with her, would come into my house real desperate and all and would just  _ beg.  _ And who was I not to comply?”

“A good christian perhaps.”

“Well any man who’s sensible doesn’t turn down a girl begging at your knees to touch her.” 

“I’d beg to disagree really.”

“Then you’re really just a fool. You should have-”

“Enough Mister Whittemore! Do you have a real story to give or are you just going to talk dirty details on your abuse, fighting against yourself?”

“I think I should be going.”

“To hell, you should be.” The man scoffs and turns back to his work, he didn’t write a single word of what he said. Rather, the release was a bit different. 

 

_ Northerner Jackson Whittemore tries to protect his name- _ __  
_ Claims Stilinski’s sweetheart and innocent fiancee- Lydia  _ _  
_ __ Martin was ‘begging’ to have him. 

Lydia right about laughed when she saw it, burst into a laugh as Kasper finished reading it- the whole table was smiling at her. “Really that kills me. Who did this to wound his pride? What does the rest say?”

Kasper continues and Stiles is leaning on his grandfathers shoulder, reading it with amusement as the elder continues on. “ _ New Yorker Jackson Whittemore comes into my office with an appointment and here I was, ready to take notes on the story that he promised to be riviting and starts talking all about how Lydia Martin was begging to take him in front of his family. This wasn’t the end of his trecherous and scandalous claims. He also claimed that I, a married and happy man, would have done it myself if a girl was begging for you- as if he never done stepped into a church.  _

“ _ Whittemore stakes no claims on this girl as I had previously seen her in hysterics over the matter of the man in my own office with my own eyes. You never done seen a girl so beat up over something- she cried like she lost her goddamn child in Stilinski’s arms and lord, that wasn’t even the end of it. She barely made it through tellin me all about the horrible things he did and here he is, in my office yellin all about how girl wants to take him like they’d be mating rabbits. Is this not the shame of men that M. Stilinski warns us on? The careful caw of the bird is precise when done right, and the shot of a panther is always sure but a man with nothing left to give- well, that’s a muddy hill to slip down. M. Stilinski was right, this man is nothing but a dirty cheating whore. _ ” 

“Well to hell with him, he deserves it, trying to call against her, who would believe him? Didn’t I tell you it was all for good Lydia?”

“And when did you tell me this?” She asks. 

“Oh how should I know? I must’ve said it at some point.”

“Oh but you didn’t.”

“Then have it, it was all for good, Lydia Martin.”

She smiles at him and she longs to be closer to him and just to hold his hand. It must have been all for good if it means that Jackson got torn in the process. She liked having this new found power and protection- really she did. It was… enriching. It was new, it was fresh. 

 

Later that night Stiles and Lydia were in the library, looking over card designs. “I really like that one,” she says pointing to the blush pink one with the black seal that was drawn on the paper. “It’s the nicest.”

“I like these, with the people drawn on it,” he says showing the one with the picnic. She nods, picking up another one and looking at it. 

“What about this one?” She asks, showing the pale bluish one that would be put in a lacy looking envelope. 

“Oh I do like that,” he agrees and she nods. “So what date are we set on?”

“You said you wanted it to be in March, did you?”

“I did… yeah.” 

“Well how about March 16th? It’s two days after my birthday.”

“And is that okay with you? You don’t want a party for it or anything?”

“The only thing I want is to be married to you,” she cooes and he scoffs.

“You’re such a hopeless romantic. Really you are- there’s no time for such tom foolery.”

“It’s not tom foolery as you put it. My love is real and I really do just want to be married already.”

“If you say so Miss Martin. If you say so.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want you to note in the article, they don't talk about Lydia being right on Jackson- they talk about STILES being right. They talk about STILES warning them. It never says lydia was right or that they believed Lydia- they believed Stiles because in that time, a man always takes another mans word before a woman's, women had no say but Lydia had a powerful man beside her and of course the man believed Stiles over the northern boy who had no claims on Stiles.


	28. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's starting to feel a lot like Christmas (and sadness)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well  
> I wrote this. I'm sorry for not posting yesterday! I had a lot of homework but I did post a tumblr preview last night. ALSO I will post a link to an edit thing that I made for the Stilinski siblings from this story that I'll also posting tonight on tumblr on allineedcd.tumblr.com. SO give it a like or a reblog! And leave your comments loves!

It was December 20’th exactly, at 9 AM and they were trudging through lightly snowed over ground as they looked up at the looming ever green trees. Stiles was in a heavy wool coat with gloves over his hands and boots tucked under his pants with a slight raised heel- she thought it was kind of funny really, how much thicker he looked with the coat hanging off his shoulders but otherwise the color complimented him and his eyes stuck out in the light of the snow. She herself was in a floor length, heavier, pleated green dress with her long, white coat draped over her bodice and down her skirt, with white buttons and white fur that covered the ends of the sleeve and served as a collar, a little satin cape hanging from the fur and a fur lined hood hanging from the back. 

“STILES! STILES! LOOK AT THIS ONE! IT’S SO BIG AND LOOK! LOOK!” Jack runs over and drags Stiles over, causing him to stumble a bit as he tried to keep up and Lydia’s eyes widen as she watches with surprise. “LOOK AT THAT! PINECONES!”

“Shhh Jack lower your voice, the whole world can hear ya god dammit, I’m standin right here,” he scolds and Jack pouts bouncing on his heels and Stiles sighs, looking up at the tree. “Well jeez how are we ever gonna get it home?”

“Carry it in the wagon of course,” Jack says as if it’s obvious and Stiles laughs. 

“Well it’s awfully large. Don’t you think? Maybe we can find one thats a tad bit smaller-” Jack whips around to look at Lydia with big eyes, grabbing her arm and batting them so it looks like he’s going to cry.

“Oh Lydia tell him he’s being unfair! It’s the perfect Christmas tree!” He whines, jiggling his legs.

“Oh stop that, don’t be a baby,” Stiles scolds.

“I’M NOT!” Jack snaps and both shush him, Lydia petting his hair as she hugs Jack to her hip. 

“Oh maybe we can fit in the house Stiles… it’s not so bad, don’t ya think? Maybe they can trim it a little or something,” Lydia tries to reason and Stiles visibly rolls his eyes, looking up at it.

“It’s not even going to fit through the door. I’m just saying there could be something-”

“LYDIA!” Jack whines and Stiles sighs, kneeling beside Jack and turning him. 

“Listen, if you really loved the tree you’d let it live here in its home, where it has all it’s animal and tree friends. It’s such a beautiful and tall tree that it’s not meant to be cut down baby- you get it?”

Jack pouts and Stiles gives him a knowing look. “Fine.” he lets go of Lydia skirt and Stiles smiles, tossling the boys hair. He’s not very amused, he looks around and sees Caden following Athena as she pads royally through the snow, rubbing against his legs. Stiles picks up his cat and kisses her head.

“And now which tree do you want Athena?” he cooes and the cat purrs rubbing against him, moving up over to sit on his shoulder, Lydia laughing as she links arms, Jack tugging Caden along to help him find a tree and poor Caden really couldn’t care at all. Though Stiles and Lydia meandered along with the kids looking for a proper tree, Athena quite settled on Stiles shoulder and Lydia quite settled around his arm. 

They were a fine two, Stiles and Lydia, and with her fur coat she looks as grand as she ever hand behind a background of dusted snow. “It feels as if  everything is going so fast,” she comments as the boys expect and examine every tree. “It feels like just yesterday I arrived at that party in July and you wouldn’t have given me the time of day if your life depended on it.”

“You say it as if I give you my time of day now.”

“What would you call this?” 

“Time of morning. It’s only 9.30 the latest.”

She scoffs at him, her head resting against his shoulder as Caden stands to stare at a small tree. “What about this one?” He asks quietly, the tree is still a baby and maybe just over a head of Stiles height. Stiles shrugs and gently touches the bristles as he looks about the tree.

“No, that just won’t do Caden- Tell him it’s too small Stiles- go on tell him.” 

“I don’t know I think it’s quite nice.”

“What do you mean it’s quite nice? You said mine was too big!” 

‘Yours was the size of a palace, this one is nice- it’s a good size, don’t you think Jacky?”

“No I don’t. It’s a baby tree, you’re the same height as the tree!” Jack pouts. “You favor him.”

“I do not favor him. I don’t favor  _ anyone.”  _

“Jack you get everything! I want this tree!” Caden complains, tugging at Stiles arm childishly and pouting. Stiles sighs. 

“Jack, I think it’s a good tree. Look, it’s a nice bright green and everything.”

“It’s  _ ugly.  _ Look, what a damper it puts on everything. My tree was nicer… or… or…” he spins and looks at another dark green, looming tree. “That one!” He points, frantic to out do his brother. 

“Jack that’s enough, this one will do fine,” Lydia says, pity curling in her stomach as Caden hugs Stiles, ready to cry- though she had to admit, his dedication to his brothers was endearing. Jack glares over at her in resentment, crossing his arms. 

“Fine.” 

Stiles is kneeling to Caden’s height, hugging him and rubbing his back. The little boy was antsy and squirming, clinging to Stiles as he fought his tears. “Hey babe, it’s okay- Jack likes the tree, don’t worry.” 

“Oh tell him to stop being a  _ baby.  _ He’s just fussing- he’s faking it!” Jack cries and Lydia shushes jack, trying to tug him away.

“Come on, We gotta go get the man to cut the tree,” Lydia tells Jack and Stiles is blatantly ignoring the little boy as he tries to soothe the other, Jack moving over and tugging at Stiles jacket and he huffs. 

“Jack I don’t have  _ time  _ for you. Must you constantly insist on upsetting Caden?” Stiles snaps a bit and Lydia gives him a look and he gives her one back and she tugs Jack away, Caden curling into his arms- and God help Stiles, he suggested they take Caden to all sorts of doctors but nobody knew what the hell he had. They said he was just shy of heart, but Stiles thought it to be different, his brother wasn’t  _ like  _ the other kids and he recalled being shy himself when he was younger but not like this. “Caddy come on, come on Caddy look, we’re gonna get you the tree- I promise. Okay? Come on Caddy, look we can go find a deer or a rabbit if you want. You wanna find a deer?”

The boy shakes his head, gripping Stiles and climbing onto his bent knee and clinging to his neck- Stiles sighs and holds the boy, standing up. He was starting to get tall and quite heavy. Though it wasn’t anything he couldn’t handle of course. He’d do anything for Caden because Caden needed him- Caden needed all of them but nobody truly seemed to understand it, not like Stiles and Odette did. 

 

“Jack baby I’m just saying you could be nicer to him,” Lydia cooes.

“Oh fiddlesticks. I don’t got to be nicer or nothin, Stiles just abhors me.”

“Stiles does not abhor you.”

“He does. He hates me. He thinks Caden is the best damn thing to ever happen-”

“Watch your mouth!” 

“I’m serious! He thinks he’s angel or something! Might just adopt the stupid kid. He doesn’t even understand anything, all he cares about are the animals. The dumb stupid animals- just like him.”

“Hey! Don’t say that about your twin brother, you love him and he loves you. He really does, things are just more difficult for him.”

“Yeah because he’s got no damn tongue.”

“Watch it!” 

“He don’t! Don’t got one, he barely ever speaks!” 

“He’s just quiet Jack. You can’t be mean to him because he’s quiet. He’s not an idiot either. Okay?”

“Yeah he’s crazy.”

Lydia stopped and pulled him back. “Don’t say that about your brother! He loves you.”

“No he don’t. He’s like your jack ass fiance-”

“Stop that! Stop using such foul language! You love Stiles-”

“He sure as hell don’t love me!” 

“Of course he does! All this over a tree?”

“Oh it’s always about Caden!” 

“It is not! Do not tell me you’re jealous because the poor boy picked a good tree.”

“I ain’t jealous of nobody.”

“So why are you yelling like that? They love you.”

“Because they always leave me out! Caden gets  _ everything  _ all because he’s shy.”

“He’s not just Shy. Come on, we were supposed to have fun, Jack! Don’t you want to have fun? Apologize about Stiles and move on, we can have fun- I promise.”

“What sorts of fun?” The boy asks. “It’s just trees.”

“Oh there’s all sorts of fun, I’m sure of it.” 

Jack sighs but agrees and soon the tree is packed and being shipped to the house while Stiles and Lydia hold Cadens hands as they walk to a little shop down the street from the farm for cocoa and something warm to eat. Caden stays quiet and Jack walks beside his brother guiltily.

“I said something bad about you,” he blurts out and the three others look to him.

“Jacky what are you talking about?” Stiles says, looking at him with a peculiar kind of look where his face scrunched and he looked like he was smiling but really he wasn’t, not totally.

“I told Lydia I thought you were a bad word.”

“What?”

“I was mad at you.”

“Ohhh I see, so you decided to call me a mean thing and now you don’t feel very great about it?”

“I thought you favored Caden.”

“Do you still think that?”

“A little bit… are you mad at me?”

“Not really.”

“Are you upset?”

“Not really.”

“You don’t care?”

“Do you want me to care that you said a bad thing about me?”

“I don’t know. I shouldn’t have said a mean thing about you.”

“And you feel sorry, that’s enough for me.”

“That’s it?”

“Sure. What do you want me to do about it?”

Jack thinks and he believes his brother has a good point but he also wonders if he’s just being kinder because Lydia was there and he didn’t want Lydia thinking he was real mean or anything. Jack goes quiet as he walks and he holds his hands behind his back as he does. He thinks that Stiles just doesn’t want to upset him and he really is upset that he’s called him a bad name. Jack wants to apologize but he can’t bring the words out of his mouth. 

They get there and they get a table somewhere in the back where they sit and Jack sits beside Lydia and Caden sits beside Stiles, Stiles and Lydia are leaned over the table, whispering things to each other, their voices soft and tender, their foreheads almost touch as they speak and Jack notices Lydia smiling- her sweet voice bursting into a giggle as she leans back. He wonders if Stiles finds it endearing, how beautifully and bubbly the girl is, he proceeds to think that Lydia Martin is beautiful and he’s staring at her with star struck eyes.

“You worry too much,” Lydia tells Stiles, not noticing the enticed little boy, her hand taking his, Stiles shrugging slightly, patting her hand as he places it on the table. 

“I mean, I have to- don’t I? It’s just I don’t want anything to come up and ruin it for you- you know?”

“Well… the only thing I can think of is we’ll be gone for Easter.”

“You’re going to be gone for Easter?” Jack asks confused. “Where are you two going?”

Stiles looks to his innocent brother and laughs, shaking his head. “We’re going on our honeymoon, remember? We’re leaving on March 22nd. We’ll be on in France I think by April 4th.”

“What on earth do you even do at a honeymoon?” He asks pouting. “I don’t get it- you’re always here for Easter, Stiles.”

“It’s just time for me and Lydia to be alone,” Stiles explains gently and the boy’s shoulders sag. “I promise I’ll send you a letter- okay?”

“I don’t want a letter, I want you to be here like you always are.”

“Think of it this way, I’ll be here for Christmas at least.”

“What do you mean? How long are you leaving for?”

“Well we weren’t planning on coming back prior to November Jack. We’re leaving in march and then touring Europe and then staying in Italy for a while,” Lydia explains to him, beaming. “But of course, we’ll write you and bring presents.”

“Why can’t you be alone at home?”

“Because then we wouldn’t be alone and I’d actually have to do things. It’s like a vacation for married people,” Stiles explains and Jack looks between them.

“Why do you need that? What’s so secret about being married that you have to be alone?”

“Uhm… Lydia can tell you all about it,” Stiles says and shoots her a grin and she kicks him lightly under the table, pouting. 

“He’s  _ your  _ brother. You tell him,” Lydia says, the waitress coming over with the cocoa and the warm brownies. Stiles thanks her sweetly and Lydia smiles brightly. 

“Those are lovely kids you have,” The waitress compliments. “Why they look just like your husband! You two look awfully young though-”

“Oh… They’re not… ours. We’re engaged, they’re my brothers,” Stiles explains and the waitress nods, smiling awkwardly.

“Well how sweet. Well… enjoy the rest of your time now and if you need anything just let a ring- yeah?”

They nod and Jack turns back to them. “Why do you need to be alone after your wedding? What’s so special?”

“It’s just… nice to get to know the person more and travel together… like when alone.” 

Jack looked confused and lydia sighed. “It’s just a certain type of bonding that a married man and woman do when they marry- they just like to be alone, to be able to bond,” Lydia explains and Stiles rolls his eyes but smirks amused.

“Yeah that’s about it. Bonding.” 

  
  


It’s not until the next day that Lydia sneaks into Stiles room and gets him alone. It’s not very early but Stiles was on a few days vacation for Christmas and he gets to sleep in. She slips into the bed, only in her robe and shakes him a bit.

“Stiles,” she whispers and he stirs, her shaking hands tugging at his white shirt a bit and she bites her lips, bouncing a bit on her knees as she waits for him to wake up, his groggy form stirring as he sits up. “Lydia?” he murmurs. “What are you doing?” he groans, and really, she realizes he wouldn’t be up at this time anyways, it’s early- suddenly she feels awfully bothersome and she wishes she hadn’t come at all.

“I had a bad dream,” She mumbles and he blinks with heavy eyes barely open to look at her.

“Y’all had a dream?”

“A nightmare,” she clarifies in a whisper and he nods, shimmying so he can let her in under the covers, Lydia crawling in beside him, not caring if she was only in her transparent nighty. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” he mumbles, adjusting so they could cuddle together and she moves so she could hug into him, his arm wrapping around her. 

“No… not really,” she mumbles. “I don’t even really remember it… I just remember something about my mother and glass in my neck.”

“Oh dear,” he mumbles and she looks up at him and he’s sleepily watching her. “You’re safe now,” he offers.

“I love you.”

“I moderately like you,” he replies and she smiles slightly, her still shaking hands moving to caress his unshaved and shadowed jaw and he puts a hand over hers before leaning in to kiss her real sweet and slow on the mouth, their bodies instantly moving closer to each other, one tired body beside another- his hand trailing from over hers down to her thigh and he lazily pulls it over his hips and she settles close to him, crotch to crotch and neither really realize what they’re doing, his kisses are slowing though and she notices that he’s strained against his pajama pants and she grinds a bit, a slight smile tugging his lips but it fades and so does his kiss and her brows furrow before she’s looking up to see he’d fallen back asleep. Lydia giggles and she simply curls into him that way, her face in his neck as she kisses gently there. The cold of the winter day is dimmed by the fire and she hides herself under the covers as she hears the chamber maid enter to reset the fire, she prays that the girl doesn’t see her in the dark, her hands gripping Stiles and surely, in the warmth of her fiance’s body, she falls asleep too. 

And she falls asleep and wet lips are tracing her neck, small confessions of adoration are accompanied with them, and her hands are found in dark brown hair that is soft and curled the way it is when all the gel has been washed out. He’s so beautiful, even in her dreams.

 

Stiles wakes up and is a bit startled to see a small bundle of red hair under his covers, uncovering the bed a bit he finds Lydia Martin in a transparent night gown, curled up against the covers with her hair flown against the bed. He’s confused and he wonders how she got there before he remembers- Lydia had a bad dream. So Stiles settles against her and he is careful to avoid staring at her bare body, though her purple-y panties stick out like a sore thumb underneath the flimsy cloth and he thinks that she has nice legs and her breasts are full, her nipples are pressed against it and he can just barely make out the sheer pink of her nipples, and he likes the way her breasts look while she’s breathing, there’s something so very nice about the expanse of her chest and slight tilt of her neck. For the first time, Stiles thinks that he genuinely wants her- not because of a heated moment, not because of a kiss, but because she was genuinely beautiful and that her beauty was spurring on the blood in his body to head south, in his already hardened self (due to the need to urinate of course, not because of Lydia Martin or anything) and he thinks that it’d be quite embarrassing if she woke up and he was fully sported, he thinks of leaving to pee but then again doesn’t want to wake her. 

He doesn’t help when her soft knee softly brushes against the side of his leg and her leg finds its way around his hips and suddenly she’s wrapped around his body. Curled into him, heart hot breath to his neck and he’s pushing her off and rolling her over. “Lydia wake up,” he whispers. “ _ Lydia _ .”

She perks up into a waking state and leans up onto an elbow, looking over. “What?” she cooes airy and confused. 

“Wake up, you gotta go before somebody walks in.”

“It’s early,” she whines.

“It’s not that early, come on- Brett’s never going to live this down, you really have to go.” 

“Stop worrying so much, it’s fine.” She curls into his chest and is ready to sleep again but Stiles nudges her.  “I’m not waking up, it’s barely _ eight. _ ”

“It’s almost  _ nine _ -” 

“Who’s going to walk in beside Brett?” 

“Beats me but you oughta go before somebody does-”

“You’re paranoid.”

“I’m not paranoid, we shouldn’t be doing this, we’re not  _ married  _ yet.”

“You’ve done worse.”

“And if you recall, I don’t exactly recognize it as a part of myself- I’m not sixteen anymore.”

“Right I do recall you not being sixteen. But I’m just saying-”

“Lydia  _ seriously.  _ Sometimes momma likes to walk in here and check up on me, if she sees you in my bed- I swear it really won’t be good. We’ll be in trouble-  _ so  _ much trouble. And what am I supposed to do if that happens? She’ll never leave us alone again- we’ll never have children because you decided it was a good idea to be in my bed at 9 AM.”

“Oh stop, nobody is going to walk in- we’re barely touching. Besides, you didn’t seem to mind earlier. You pulled me flush against you with my leg up around you and everything.”

“I did  _ not.” _

“You  _ di _ d.

“That’s just a horrible joke.”

“It’s not a joke- I thought it was cute- besides you’re good for warmth.”

“I suppose, somebody said it might snow today- one of the farmers in town.”

“I recall, we had been there together.”

“Well yes, I suppose.”

“It’s also December, Stiles.”

“I’m quite aware.”

“It’s supposed to be cold.”

“I kn _ ow _ , Lydia.”

“I’m just making sure.”

“I’m not thick headed.”

“Well…” 

“I’m not that bad. I really could be worse, especially being a lawyer and all- have you met some other lawyers, they act like the goddamn  _ president  _ for Christ’s sake. They think they’re the entire legislative, as if all they say is law. I’m not so bad.”

“Oh by the time you’re dying at 56 or something, you’ll be quite the same. Stuck up and full of it and acting all sorts of godly.”

“All sorts of godly, I like how that sounds.”

“See what I mean.”

He makes a bit of a sour face before shrugging absently. “Whatever you say Lydia Martin. Don’t think a single part of me could be so boosted without you stepping down on me. Huh?”

“Oh stop. I’m the one in love.”

“And I’m just slightly interested in you.”

“You’re so consistent. You know you said something like that to me when I came in here. I told you I loved you and you said you moderately liked me.” 

Stiles scoffs. “I’m not a liar.”

“Oh but you are. You love me.”

“I do?”

She nods with big innocent eyes, eyes glancing down his body, smirking as she catches the sight of his arousal and nods slowly. “Hmm I think you do. It takes a lot to get you aroused.”

Stiles glances down before rolling his eyes. “It’s not arousal, its a bodily function.”

“So you wouldn’t feel anything at all say if I-” he stops her hand from trailing down her body and she practically pouts.

“Don’t even think about it.”

“Why not?”

“Because we’re not married. I’m not  _ risking  _ anything.”

Lydia thinks about commenting on him ‘risking’ it for Malia but not for her but she knows he’d get upset and he’d have half a mind to never speak to her again. She nods solemnly and curls against him. “Fine, you can take care of yourself and get a disease, I’m going back to sleep.”

“Nonononono, you need to leave, Lydia.”

“Why? I’m so comfortable.”

“ _ Lydia _ .” 

She sighs and nods, running a hand down his chest and placing a wet kiss to his neck. “I’ll see you at breakfast then?”

“Of course,” he mumbles, and when she leaves, he doesn’t even fall back asleep and he considers taking care of it himself- because really, he  _ was  _ turned on but he didn’t have the kind of gut to admit. He decides against it and changes and goes outside instead. Brett is surprised to see him when he passes through the servant's dining area for breakfast and he waves everybody off. “Please stay seated. I’m just going to the stables.”

“Why didn’t you ring?” Brett asks and Stiles shrugs. 

“I can do things myself you know.”

“You don’t pay me for nothing.”

“I don’t and you do a lot for me, the least I could do is let you enjoy breakfast.” 

Stiles shrugs and goes off about his way to the stables where he goes to check on Lightening. He pets his snout and kisses him gently, the horse whinnying and Stiles notices it’s warm in the stables, he’s glad because he doesn’t want Lightning to be cold. “I know you wanna go outside but it’s awful cold out there lightening… you don’t want to be out there, trust me.”  

He kisses his snout before moving into his loft and sitting with him.

 

Caden is sitting in his room with the Nanny, pouting on the floor as he watches her pick his clothes. He sits there pouting and when she turns to put the clothes down and undress him, Caden moves away. He shakes his head and the nanny sighs. Jack is already dressed and playing with his toy train. Caden goes and sits beside Jack. Jack looks up and looks at Nanny.

“I don’t think he wants you to dress him. You oughta wait til momma’s up.”

“Oh we can’t do this everyday-”

“He ain’t gonna budge. Let him be nanny.”

The woman sighs and settles down in the rocking chair. “I don’t understand it. That boy just don’t get nothing.”

Caden pouts and moves to go out of the room and to Stiles bedroom. “Caddy? Where ya goin?” Jack queries as he follows his younger brother, the boy walking to Stiles room and pushing in and climbing to find Stiles, only to find him absent of his bed. Caden turns around and looks at Jack with big eyes and Jack looked confused.

“Well what’s the matter?” he whispered.

“Stiles is gone!” He yells before breaking into sobs. 

“Caddy no! Don’t cry!” Jack climbs onto the bed too, finding that his brother  _ was  _ gone. And he sure as hell didn’t know where he went. “Caddy stay right here!” He asserts before running out of the room and going to Lydia’s room, not even knocking, just barging in to find her bathroom door open and no signs of his brother. He knocks on the bathroom door. 

“Lydia?”

“Jack is that you baby?” 

“Yeah… do you know where Stiles is?”

“He was in his room last I checked.”

“Well he ain’t there now.”

“Why do you need him?”

“Caddy wanted him and is cryin like he done been murdered because he din’t find him there.”

“Oh goodness. Well check around the house, maybe Brett knows, I’ll be out soon-”

“No! No you stay there,” Jack pleads before leaving her room and running down to see Brett only to find him running up the stairs already. 

“Who rang?” Brett asked. 

“Probably Caddy.” 

Brett nods and Jack isn’t even invited to go on with him, Jack watches as Brett disregards him and rushes off to see his younger brother, who throwing a real old fit like he was some sort of child. Jack huffs and moves downstairs to find his nanny waiting at the bottom of the stairs.

“What is goin on?”

“Caddy threw a fit. He wants Stiles.”

“Well you’re not finding him young man, lets go back to your bedroom until the tutor gets here. You gotta read some. Let’s go.” She ushers him upstairs.

 

Stiles is ushered in by one of the maids and he runs upstairs to see Odette and Brett trying to soothe Cadan. Meeting Lydia in the hall as they walked in and Stiles sat down on the bed and scooped Caden into his arms, cradling him and kissing his head. “Caddy, Caddy baby, I’m right here. I got you baby. Caddy!” Stiles rubs his back, cooing softly to him, trying to keep him close. “Caddyyyy, Caddy calm down please.”

“Y-you left!” 

“I just went outside baby boy.”

Caden shakes his head furiously as he screams into Stiles chest, clinging onto his suit jacket and screaming, kicking his feet slightly as Stiles kisses his head and tries to soothe him, Stiles rubbing his back and kissing his head. Lydia thinks that Stiles is good with children, and it takes her aback a bit because he doesn’t have that subtle nature about him. He doesn’t seem caring and sweet with children. He had a tender way about his brother, the way he had softly started singing to calm Caden down and he went from screaming to whimpering in a matter of moments, reduced in his older brothers arms, collecting himself in his lap and curling up and hugging him. 

“Don’t leave Stiles, don’t leave.”

“I would never leave you baby I’m right here.”

“Don’t tell daddy I cry. Pwease? He’s gonna get mad-”

“Shhhh Daddy’s not gonna know nothing. Come on, let’s go get you ready for your lesson. Let’s put you in a bath and get you ready, Papa ain’t gon touch you, okay?” 

The little boy nods and Lydia helps Stiles stand with Caden in his arms, Odette following Brett to set the bath. Stiles follows and he looks to Lydia who seems scared and confused- she’d never seen the boy act like that before, and she didn’t understand- nobody  _ understood.  _ Caden needed him, Caden needed somebody who loved him and understood him, he wasn’t crazy, he wasn’t being a child… he couldn’t help it. He just couldn’t help it. Stiles knew that. Stiles understood that. It was like his hyperactiveness as a kid- his parents didn’t understand it so his mother tried to teach him how to bury it under, his father would beat him for acting out so frequently and talking so frequently. They did the same to Caden who they thought was just shy, lazy and childish but Stiles knew better, he would rather take a beating for his brother than let his brother get beat. 

 

Stiles puts him in the bath and washes him, gently rubbing him down. Odette is sitting beside Stiles as she talks to him. “Liam said it was really nice there- are you going to go there? To the countryside Stiles?” 

“Sure, we might visit the countryside. It would be nice to be isolated for awhile. You like him a lot, dont’cha Odette?”

“Yeah I do… Stiles he’s so nice. And his family is so interesting. His dad is a sailsmen- they travel all over the place- he can come and go whenever he wants.”

“And wouldn’t that be nice?”

“Nice as a spring evening.”

Stiles moves a wet hand and brushes a loose strand of hair back and kisses her head. “One day you can see the world with the man you love and I hope you never have to come home.”

“I’ll always come home to you, my darling brother. I would do anything to be with you the rest of my life, to protect you like you protect me.”

Stiles smiles and shakes his head. “Don’t worry so much about me, I’m a dying man, I’ll be alright.”

“You ain’t nothin of the sort. You’re the best man to ever live.”

She beams with pride in her brother and runs a hand through his hair and kisses her brothers cheek, Stiles smiles back and finishes washing Caden. “Be a doll and grab a towel for Caddy.”

Odette does as she’s told and she thinks she could live alone with Stiles and Lydia and Caden for the rest of their life. But unlike his siblings, Stiles can’t see a world without his parents in it. He can’t live in a world without his mother in it. He needed his mother. He needed her terribly because he loved her too much to let her go- his poor angelic mother who only tried her hardest. 

If there are Angels playing organs and holding doors at churches, than there were four at every door waiting on Claudia Stilinski and Lydia Martin- the Hail Mary’s of all woman. The best, the kindest, the most tender hearted. If there was life sustained and humanity preserved, it was preserved in the hearts of his mother and wife. 

 

Jack is sitting reading with Lydia when Caden pads in with Stiles behind him, a towel wrapped around his shorter, smaller, and more frail body. He waits for Stiles to grab his underwear and his clothes, though grows shy when he sees Lydia reading with Jack. Caden waddles over to the closet and Stiles laughs and follows. He makes sure Lydia can’t see and dresses Caden in his suit. That’s when Nanny comes in to announce that the Tutor was here, waiting with their newly woken parents. John walks in after the boys leave for their lesson in the study on the first floor and Stiles straightens, Lydia standing behind him.

“What was with Caden this morning?”

“Nothing,” Stiles tells his father. “He just got afraid of something, that’s all.” 

“Stiles he needs to be disciplined-!” 

“He doesn’t need anything! He just got afraid, I took care of it fine.”

“You baby him!”

“I take care of him! Don’t you understand? He’s… he’s not like the other kids! He needs help, he needs love and care- you can’t beat it out of him the way you did with-”

“I never  **beat** you! When have I ever touched you!” 

“I could name a few good times,” Claudia mumbles, having been leaning against the doorway, watching him with a coldblooded stare. “You’re not touching Caddy. Now stop making a scene in front of the girl, you’re scaring her. And get downstairs before your breakfast is cold. I shouldn’t have to be in a corset this early in the morning. It’s only 9.30. I’m going to sit by the lemon tree.”

She gives John a hard stare and a challenging eyebrow, he is quick to retreat behind his wife and Lydia looks to Stiles.

“He used to hit you?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Stiles…”

“It’s not a big deal Lydia-”

“Stiles!”

“I used to be very talkative and loud and just disobedient. I got what I deserved. Caddy doesn’t deserve it, I did.”

“You don’t deserve to beat by your own father,” she tells him, voice cracking slightly, shaking her head as she takes his arm. “You don’t deserve anything.”

“He didn’t do it often and it doesn’t matter- we’re on better terms now.”

“Stiles…” she mumbles helplessly and he tilts her head and she pouts. 

“I’m okay,” he assures, resting his hand on her cheek and gently caressing her lower lips with his thumb and she tilts her head just slightly to kiss the pad of his thumb and smiles sadly.

“I love you.”

“So you’ve told me.”

“Can we go sit in the library? I want you to read to me.”

“Of course love. Anything for you.”

 

Theo Raeken sits on the edge of the bed, a soft end tracing the edge of his bare back and he leans into it just slightly. The hand traces his spine softly before massaging the skin on his neck and Theo hums, leaning back into the body. “I’ve got to go Josh…” 

“Stay…” he whispers kissing along his neck, soft, wet kisses where his finger tips were. “Don’t leave yet… there’s still time.”

Theo leans his head back on the man's shoulder and tilts his head for a kiss and it’s thrilling because it’s what  _ feels right  _ but what feels right could get him arrested, could get him whipped, it could kill him. Yet it was so perfect, being in another man's arms. Yet it just wasn’t allowed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> http://allineedcd.tumblr.com/post/145381147629/when-the-south-met-the-north-the-stilinski (click this link you won't be disappointed)


	29. chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a... white christmas

Lydia didn’t allow Stiles in the kitchen the rest of the week. She was baking- or attempting to at least. She put hours upon hours, just making small practice batches of cookies. Trying to test consistency and what works until she finally put together a collection of gingerbread, shortbread and sugar cookie recipes that made for heavenly combinations. T’any and Charolette help her and by Christmas Eve she has 2 delicious boxes of cookies, wrapped in nice paper. 

“Do you think he’ll like it?” Lydia asks. “I feel like it’s not enough.” 

“Oh it’s more than he could ask for,” T’any assures, rubbing her back. “And they real good too. Almost as good as my own cookies. He gon like em, I’m tellin you he gon love you for puttin in that kind of time and effort.”

“You really think so?”

“Oh I know so child.” 

Lydia beams proudly and as she exits the kitchen in her simple, green and brown checkered hoop skirt with a navy blue turtle neck button up shirt, she can see there’s more of a christmas feel to the house it was December 24th and his family was here for the most part. Both his mothers parents and his gram, his aunts and uncles and cousins from both sides were arriving. The children were running around, and as she neared the entrance she could see the men pulling up the tree and the woman holding decorations to hand over to put up. Stiles was with his cousin Andres and Mari was standing near by him, with their mothers. Lydia notices though that the argents aren’t here and she’s slightly surprised. They were considered family- why weren’t they here? 

Though she approaches them and Stiles takes her hand and pulls him under her arm. “Long time no see, glad to see you’ve parted from the kitchen. Found a new love, aye?”

“Not at all- you’re my only love,” she cooes and they smile at each other, his lips gently pressing to her head. “Though I have been working hard. I think you’d be rather pleased.”

“Did you help make the breakfast then?” Mari asks and she shrugs.

“I’m not gonna say a word.” Lydia grins brightly and looks up to Stiles who’s just watching them put the tree up. She thinks it looks quite magical and tall on it’s stand in the house, the decorations that slowly piled on making it look ethereal. Their trees had never been that tall, just tall enough to be under the roof of the apartment. This was different though- the Dubrowsky entrance was towering, it was tall and gorgeous and made of the most refined materials one could ever have. She wonders how they were even Americans when they lived in a Palace made for an English King- when the Stilinski family was a family of pure virginians, she thought they deserved to be the conquerors of the earth, land and sea. Stiles was an imperial king with an imperial mind, his ideas soared above him, his heart raced to find new lands, new things. How could somebody cage a bird with so much potential? She falls short on the notion because his hand had moved to grip her hip, squeezing slightly to get her attention, even if he had nothing to say to her, he just wanted her attention- she likes that, and she lays a hand on his chest and rests her head along his shoulder. He must have missed her when she refused to see him for the past 4 days (know that she would surely let up her secret), and truly, she missed him- a lot. She missed holding him and kissing him and hearing his tell-tale stories. She missed him, truly and deeply, she just wanted to be alone but what with his family being here and all- there would be no time alone- not for hours anyways.

“Don’t you like the tree?” he asks her absently and she nods eagerly. 

“I do. We’d never had a tree that big. It looks smaller in the farm.”

“They always do. Jack isn’t happy about it but what can we do?”

“Oh give him a break, Caden gets a lot of attention from you and Jack just wants your approval.”

“Approval for what? I love him, I care for him… there’s nothing to prove.”

“Young boys hearts don’t see it like that- wouldn’t you know?” she queries, and they’re whispering, leaning into the other, holding each other, almost nose to nose and Claudia even moves to nudge them apart a bit.

“Can you two wait until after you're married- we don’t need people talking about you two, saying anything they can come up with. You know how it is, you’re reputations are at stake.”

“Sorry mama,” Stiles mumbles and Lydia nods, wriggling from his grasp, though she longed to be back flush against him and practically nose to nose. That’s where she felt safest: in Stiles Stilinski’s arms, where she knew he would protect her. Even though he would never have admitted it to her, she knows that deep down what he feels for her is more than a ‘moderate liking’ for her. Maybe it was just her heart willing something that wasn’t there but she wanted to believe that he loved her- he loved her so much. Though she could never know… 

  
  


It was that night that the families are spread out amongst the house and they’re all drinking and talking and in drawing room to drawing room. Stiles is with the young men, Lydia is with the young women, they’e all having a ball. It’s all a good time- really. The kids are running around and Odette is with them, sitting beside Mari. 

“And I mean- lord have you seen what it’s going on up there? It’s quite the mess really. They have all these violent abolition movements- riling up all these people and burning houses down- it’s like the revolution all over again! It’s like boston and the soldiers from England. Can you imagine?”

“It’s not that bad, surely,” Odette says. “Stiles says that they’re just angry- the abolitionists- because they’re not gettin their good ways. They don’t realize this is our lives. They’re treatin us like we don’t got no rights to what we do- and not everyone is bad, they think we’re all whippin slaves and most poeple can’t even afford to buy they own chattle.”

Lydia listens and she’s certain that Odette sounds exactly like Stiles when he talks politics. She uses the same determined tone, the slight raise of her voice, the way she’s dignified and certain and her voice is firm- like there’s no room for a fight against her. Lydia loves that about Odette, that just like Stiles, she’s brave and kind and all sorts of mysteries. Their longings are the same, though Odette would follow Stiles to the ends of the earth, Stiles would forge a path of greatness to lead her down, create the uncreated and Lydia believed so strongly and so suddenly that Stiles truly was the greatest being to ever live- to ever contribute to the earth, his value was simply being alive, simply allowing people to bask his presence. And she was blessed to have his presence with her for the rest of their lives, to get to love him unlike any other woman could.

That was a gift, and a blessing and all she really ever could ask for. Loving Stiles Stilinski. 

 

The night otherwise passes restlessly with people heading back and forth. She recalls a couple of exchanges between Stiles gram and his nana, they were always fighting about something.

“I don’t understand why you treat these negro’s like friends!”

“These are your slaves! You had them first, you  _ witch. _ ”

“How dare you! There are children listening-”

“As if you ever cared for children!”

It was probably decipher who was who, if it wasn’t, Stiles nana was not the one yelling about negros being friends and how it was wrong. This whole arrangement went on the entire night, she thought she would never hear the end of the yelling and screaming and the arguing between men and between woman on the two very different sides of the family. If the North and the South had any physical embodiment, it was the Stilinski family against the Autenbergs. It was  _ wild  _ and Lydia didn’t understand how they did this every holiday- hell she was glad they’d be gone for Easter because she didn’t think she could do this again and so soon. It’s like the moment they left they’d be back again. Once they left in January they’d be back early march for the wedding and not leave until April, she didn’t even know how her and Stiles would get through a round of sex with so many people lingering about the house. They probably wouldn’t get a proper wedding night until… Until they got to France. However long that would take. 

She doesn’t adjust in her bed quite comfortably and she’s a bit anxious, she’s a bit antsy, she just wants it to be morning so she could know if Stiles liked the gift or not. She couldn’t tell if he would like ot not, she didn’t know if it was something he’d appreciate- she just knows that she wanted to give him something from the heart, something that she worked hard on because that’s what a good wife would do- even if they’re yet to marry, it feels as though they should be and she thinks that any good fiancee would do the same, just to appease her future husband. And Lydia wonders if it’s for appeasement or for approval and she decides that it’s more his approval than she craves, she just wants to hear him tell her it’s all enough. That everything she does is enough for him.

And she barely slept that night, she’s restless in the sheets as she tosses and turns- she’s just waiting on something (anything) to put her mind at ease and allow her to rest. That of course doesn’t happen and when her maid comes in to change her she looks tired and restless but she puts on her best face. 

“Are you alright, you look pale,” Odette comments, taking her face in her hands. “Well nothing a cup of coffee and some food can’t fix. Lets go before the buffet run low. You know how it is with the family.”

Lydia nods and follows, getting a cup of coffee first before she puts herself some plum pudding and hot oatmeal with some blueberries in them. She takes a seat on a couch in the corner, off the side from the table and Stiles sees her and she avoids his eyes as the family, married woman or non, were sat around eating breakfast. Odette is sure to sit beside her as not to worry Stiles and they engage in small conversation.

“What kept you up?”

“I was worried,” Lydia admits. “You see… I have this daring fear that really, anything that I do will never be good enough for Stiles. I just couldn’t sleep over it.” 

“Oh that’s tom foolery. I know he acts like he don’t care but really he do. He just don’t know how to open his heart yet, you’ll see.”

“I don’t know… I’m just afraid that maybe it’s not enough. Maybe I’m not enough.”

“You’re more than he could ask for. He’d be lucky to have a girl like you- any man would be.”

“You mean it?”

“Of course.” 

They smile and soon the crowd is shifting to the tree, there the kids and the adults exchange presents and Stiles hands Lydia a box, of medium size and nice packaging. “What is it?” she asks. 

“Well open it and see,” he whispers and she nods, unwrapping it slowly, careful not to rip the paper, finding a velvet like box that is smooth and has a gold hatch to it. She opens it and inside is a silhouette necklace that greatly resembles her own face, an ivory girl on a pink background. Lydia gasps and she looks up at him in estrangement.

“Stiles this must have cost you a fortune, it’s beautiful- you shouldn’t have, you really  _ shouldn’t  _ have… it’s too much,” she pleads and Stiles shakes his head.

“Not at all, I made it for you because I-”  
“You made it?”

“Yeah… I carved the girl and all, I know somebody who does this kind of stuff and well… he taught me how. It’s not great-”

“Stiles it’s amazing,” she whispered. “I didn’t get you half of this-”

“Lydia it doesn’t matter, why are you so wound up? Are you alright? I mean you  _ look  _ exhausted-”

“I’m fine,” she excuses and looks down at the necklace a bit disappointed. “I mean you put all this hard work in for me-”

She hands him the box before retrieving the boxes for him and handing him the wrapped tin boxes and Stiles puts her present on the floor beside his feet and unwraps it to find two colorful tins. “What are they?”

“Open them.” She sounds dull and disappointed and he laughs when he sees them, a gleeful smile on her face and she looks up at him estranged, a smile tugging her lips as he sniffs at the box. 

“This is what you’ve been doing? Lord I never took you for a baker,” he teases. “They smell wonderful. You probably poured your  _ soul  _ into these cookies- you should hope they aren’t too good or I’ll be asking you to bake all the time.”

Lydia giggles and watches him hopefully. “You like it?”

“I love it. I appreciate it… really I do.”

“I… I was so afraid you wouldn’t.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” 

“I… don’t know.”

“I love it.”

“I’m glad.” 

“Oh Lydia!” Odette calls. “Look what I made you,” she cooes before handing her the gift and stealing a cookie from Stiles and humming. “Those are delicious- where’d you get them?”

“Lydia.” he beams proudly when he says it and her heart  _ soars.  _ She swears it literally leaps from her chest to fly with the birds when she sees his pride aimed at her, the way he proclaims ‘lydia’ as if it’s the best thing he could say.

“They’re delicious.”

“‘Thank you. Your gift is under the tree,” she advises and Odette beams and kisses her future sister in law on the cheek before Lydia opens it to find a silver charm bracelet littered with all sorts of charm. “I think I’ll wear this and your necklace for the rest of my life.”

Stiles laughs and he tilts her chin up to kiss her before recalling they were still in public and that it wouldn’t look very good if he did (this wasn’t their engagement party, people would shame them for it now), and he resigns to lightly kissing her knuckles lightly and briefly. Lydia giggles. 

“Can’t contain yourself huh?”

“I feel like I haven’t kissed you in ages- you got me all used to kissin you whenever and now it’s like everybody is watchin us. I can’t. It’s a little painful, I miss you a lot. We haven’t had any time together.”

“I know, but we will soon,” she promises. “Maybe tonight we can go for a walk?”

“Tonight Isaac, the Darcy’s, the Rothman’s and the Argents are joining us. Also the McCall’s I believe.” 

“The McCall’s are here?”

“As far as I’m concerned, they’re visiting. Though I don’t think Scott and Allison have been together necessarily.”

“I see.”

Stiles nods and they smile. “It’s bound to be interesting and a much needed distraction.”

“Really i’m praising god that we’ll be away for easter.” 

Stiles shrugs. “Yeah I suppose so. It’s always more hectic then because everyone is cranky from fasting and not having had any meat or anything.”

“Yeah… We’ll be fine. We’ll break fast on the boat.”

“If there’s fast to break on the boat but all will be well when we reach Paris.”

“We’re heading to Paris first?”

“Well.. I think we’d be on the coast first and we’ll make our way in.”

“Ah. I understand.”

“Good.” 

 

Lydia decided that she hated Elizabeth Darcy. That girl knew nothing about boundaries and she might as well kiss Stiles. Here Lydia is, watching from the other end of the room with a drink in her hand, and Elizabeth Darcy beside Isaac and taking hold of Stiles- who was laughing and talking away. Karen Rothman wasn’t far behind, tossing her hair behind her a few times, holding his arms, the girls having both given him gifts, both sticking to his side and disregarding her completely- well, that was wrong, Karen regarded her, though much of her time was spent with Stiles and Lydia simply can’t bring herself to impose on them, move to be with them. 

So Lydia keeps herself rooted to her spot with Mari and the other girls from his family, alongside Allison who sticks beside her and is having too good of a time to notice Lydia’s mood. Lydia wonders why she had to be such a disappointment and a downer, she was moping while everybody was having such a splendid time. Finally she decides, that once it was late enough, to leave. Most people had gone to bed anyways and it seemed everyone who came over would be taking a room in the house for the night- so she left. Stiles was still with Karen and Beth, who were giggling drunk and talking to him in slurred fragments and he feigned amusement for them. 

Though he sees Lydia dash from the room and excuses himself. “I really must go now but I’ll see you both in the morning?” He doesn’t wait to hear their reply and runs upstairs after her, quietly shutting the door behind him as he enters the room. “Lydia are you alright?”

He notices she’s casually undressing, she doesn’t even stop when she hears him. Nor does she regard him in any way. “Lydia-”

“I’m sorry, have I suddenly become important enough for you to notice? Sure you’re all peachy keen on me around your family-”

“What are you talking about?”

“Those girls were all over you!” 

“Nobody was all over anybody Lydia!”

“Karen kept  _ touching  _ you- kept grabbing at you like you were something to grab at.”

“She wasn’t grabbing at me- she hardly laid a hand on me.”

“Who are you fooling?”

“Nobody!”

“I saw her!”

“Why are you so upset about this?”

“Because I love you and it doesn’t seem like you care very much in return- you truly just don’t like me do you?”

“I… What?” Stiles asks hurt. “Of course I do, what are you… Lydia do you hear yourself.”

“You don’t care if they’re all over you or not, don’t act like I’m some sort archangel for you.”

“I don’t care because they don’t matter, you’re everything to me,” he says and he’s taking slow steps towards her and soon they’re standing very close to each other, her dress against her chest, pooling in her hands. 

“I don’t believe you,” Lydia whispers her eyes glancing to his lips and Stiles own eyes glance down to her lips and it isn’t another moment before their raptured in a deep kiss, their mouths parting, bodies pressing close to each other and soon she falls against the bed and she gasps just slightly against his mouth.

“I think I can prove my worth to you,” he whispers and she grins wickedly, their mouths meeting in a heated kiss again- his hands cupping her breasts and pushing up against the silk fabric of her undergarments, the corset underneath in his way, hands tugging the dress off and over her head. She shimmies it over her head and tosses it, their hands tugging at the backs of the corset as he places wet open mouthed kisses all over her neck. Not a mark left and not a trace other than his saliva sticking just scarcely evident on her body. His Jacket is somewhere to the side, their lips are locked in a heated passion and shes yanking at his shirt buttons and he doesn’t care much- he just lets her. Lets her yank at them and they’re hips are pressed to each other, her legs wrapped around his waist and their lips part as she moans softly, their noses touching, hooded eyes locking and she can’t seem to pull away- he was  _ addictive  _ and she didn’t know what she’d be getting out of him but whatever it was she didn’t think she could live without wanting it every day for the rest of her life. 

And it wasn’t long before they were naked under the covers, their hands between each others legs, taking care of what needed to be taken care of. His spare hand gripped at her breasts and her spare traced his hips and the side of his firm ass, her lips just parted against his neck as she panted and moaned and keened for him- and he returned the same much quieter, almost whispered and it was unearthly. He sounded like an angel, he sounded so beautiful and so perfect. She wanted to memorize his every gasp and his every moan, she wanted to memorize the curve of his hip, the pulsing heat of his cock in her hand, and she wanted to memorize the malicious curve of his lips when they kissed as she met her ends meet and the way the smile faded as he followed suit after her.  _ Shit  _ she had never felt so ruined by anybody.

“I’m yours,” he whispers, after, holding her hip, face pressed to her neck.

“And only mine,” she agrees.

“Nobody else's,  I swear it on all things  **holy** , Lydia Martin.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please don't judge me, I have never written a sex scene befor


	30. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> white christmas. mp3

 

Lydia’s fluttered open and she feels warmer in her bed than she’s felt in days, she barely moves before realizes that Stiles has wrapped himself around her- his arms holding her flush to him, his head nuzzled into her shoulder and her back was to his chest, their bodies as naked as they were the previous evening but not nearly as tangled or close. They had fallen asleep almost afraid to touch each other in post euphoria as if they were too fragile to touch or that they were too afraid to see what happened next. But it seems the night took over and now he was pressed flush against her shamelessly, holding her close to him as if he needed her, and his hot breath warmed her skin as he slept peacefully- she couldn’t help but notice that he really was such a quiet sleeper. She wonders if maybe she puts him at ease, she hopes that she does. 

Lydia tilts her head back slightly, her hand lacing with one of his. “Stiles… Stiles baby wake up,” she cooes and pets his soft hair. He hums softly and shifts away from her, curling under the covers. She feels bad for waking him, but she knows he’d have to leave before anybody suspected his absence. The sky was still grey outside, the sun was barely peeking and though she couldn’t quite make out the numbers on the clock due to foggy, tired vision, she could assume that it was quite early and nobody would be awake. 

“Stiles…” She cooes again. “Stiles you have to wake up,” she mumbles and he shifts, blinking confused before he realizes he’s in Lydia’s bed. 

“What time is it?”

“It’s still early…” She mumbles, hand absently tracing over his arm and his shoulder, he nods and sits up in the bed. 

“It snowed,” he points out and she glances out the window and giggles. 

“Looks like it did.”

“We should go out later… Take lightening for a walk.”

“Sounds nice,” she mumbles, the blanket over her chest, a budded purple mark on her chest from his sucking there, they’ve both glanced to it and he glances over the rest of her. “I’ll be wearing a turtle neck, nobody will notice. My chest will be covered.”

He nods and she watches him, worry full in her eyes. “I don’t regret it if that’s what you want to ask me… Just… we can’t do this often and I don’t want to go any further,” he whispers and she nods in understanding. “I don’t think we could get  _ away with  _ going further-”

“You don’t feel bad about it? I know how you feel about everything that happened with Malia and-”

“And it’s different between us. I did it because you mean something to me, not because I wanted something out of you.” 

Lydia nods and she leans over to kiss him gently. “You should get dressed and go,” she advises and he nods, kissing her head. 

“I’ll see you at breakfast then?”

“That depends on how I feel about you in a few hours.”

“Don’t steal my quips.”

“We can’t both want to see each other, it just doesn’t work that way. Either you make a quip about not wanting to see me or I do. This isn’t a Jane Austin Novel.”

“Well shoot, you’ve got me there,” he quips and she giggles, the two sharing a loving kiss, her manicured finger nails scratching gently at his stubbled cheeks before he rolls out of the bed, shivering in the cold. He collects his clothes and casually redresses by the dying fire. It must be early if the maid had yet to show to do so and he throws some wood in there for Lydia anyways, just to keep her warm (and so he can dress a bit warmer), his clothes are stiff and cold, almost soggy from being out in the cold room. He doesn’t bother to look presentable, and he leaves without another word to her, considering Lydia had already fallen back asleep. 

He gets in his room without a trace of being caught, undresses and puts his clothes away and then crawls into bed, where he falls back asleep, peacefully hugging his pillow. His head is filled with their escapades the previous night, the way her hips would rock against his hand, the way she moaned his name, the way her hair fell over her shoulders and over her breasts and how he had to move her hair to indulge in the taste of her skin. He thinks that the best feeling he’d ever had was Lydia Martin’s touch, he doesn’t think he could ever see another woman the way he sees Lydia Martin- who is beautiful and graceful and kind and so  _ brave,  _ but also playful and sexy and god- has he mentioned she was beautiful yet? Because good lord, she was _ beautifu _ l. She was so beautiful. 

Stiles is quick to fall asleep and he doesn’t wake up for hours. He just makes up for all the sleep he might have lost in the past days, sleeping on and on, past breakfast and right into noon. He doesn’t even plan on waking up when a knock sounds at his door and he startles awake, his mother entering from the other end of the room. 

“Stiles?” she cooes and he blinks, sitting up, a hand moving into his hair.

“Is everything alright momma?” he mumbles innocently and she laughs beautifully.

“Everything’s fine. Are  _ you  _ alright? It’s almost noon and you’re still sleeping.”

“It is? I think I’m just so tired… I suppose I haven’t had time to sleep properly.”

“The McCalls did stop by for breakfast to apologize for not coming last night. Then they went to see the Argents, Scott had been looking for you and Brett said you never rang. Lydia said she hadn’t seen you since last night- was she okay?”

“What do you mean?”

“She looked ill.”

“She was just tired and a bit cranky. I think the family makes her nervous.”

“Why do you say that?”

“She made a quip about being happy to be gone for easter, though I agree. They’re here all year round, I could use a break.”

“You missed it, Gram spilled her cup of hot tea on Boyd and Nana lost her marbles. Ain’t never seen anything like it.”

Stiles chuckles softly, curling into the bed and resting his head on his arm. “That’s funny. Really it is, is Nanny alright now though?”

“She’s fine. Grandpa Kasper is looking for you. He wanted you to go out with him and the boys and Odette and Lydia. I said I’m come wake you before you sleep the rest of the day and miss out.”

“Oh, ring the bell and I’ll let Brett dress me. Tell them I just need 15 minutes so I can shave and all.” 

“Of course. They’re more than willing to wait.” Claudia smiles and kisses her sons head, unaware of what he’d been up to the previous night. She rings the bell for Brett and he comes up with boiled water for Stiles to shave and hot tea for him to drink.

“Morning sleepy head,” he greets and Stiles smiles.

“Mornin Brett.”

“Where were you last night? You never rang.”

“I uh… I got a little occupied.”

“You got occupied? With what?” 

Stiles shrugs and Brett connects the pieces as he watches Stiles shave. “You slept with Lydia,” he then proceeds and Stiles rolls his eyes.

“We didn’t… There wasn’t any penetration involved, technically we did nothin  _ wrong. _ ” 

“You were still naked in her bed- and with my guessin she was equally so.”

“I s’pose.”

“Is she any good?”

“I mean I guess my opinion is biased, isn’t it?”

“Well yeah but like… was she really any good?”

“I think she was pretty good.”

“Glad to know somebody undid that knot in your pants,” Brett teased. “Just hand to hand right?”

“Yeah…?”

“No oral?”

“What?”

“You didn’t use your mouth?”

“I… **_No_ ** ,” Stiles says looking slightly disgusted and Brett scoffs.

“It works, girls go  _ crazy  _ when you start using your tongue on them.”

“I can’t imagine that’s a good taste.”

“It’s better than you think… It’s not the worst taste.”

“I don’t really know what I’m supposed to say to this.”

“Just try it out on her one day.”

“How do I know she’ll like it?”

“All girls like it- and besides, if she connects the dots, eventually she’ll do the same in return. And before you ask it’s a pretty good deal.” 

“I don’t know… Wouldn’t that hurt her?”

“Well only if done right, she might get a little sore throated.”

“Brett! Jesus Christ, don’t you go to church?”

“Of course I go to church.” He grins wickedly and Stiles wipes his cream covered razor on Brett. “Hey!” 

“Go get re-baptized.” 

“What would that do?”

“Maybe blacken the water but purify your sin.”

“You’re the one with your fingers notched up your fiancee.”

“Yes but I’m not the one prostituting my way through life now am i?” 

“I wouldn’t call it prostituting.”

“Then what exactly?”

“Just having a jolly good time.” 

“You’re horrible really. Can you get my clothes out?”

Brett does as told and he helps Stiles get dressed once he’s shaven clean. Stiles smiles and he bids Brett goodbye before meeting his family downstairs by the door, Kasper, Caden, Jack, Odette and Lydia, waiting on him. Caden runs in a little waddle to him and reaches his hands up, and Stiles picks the small boy up and kisses his cheek. 

“Hey there baby boy,” he cooes and Caden smiles, hugging his neck.

“Snow!”

“Yeah there’s snow,” Stiles cooes and puts him down, Jack walking up to them and Stiles ruffles his hair. 

“You missed Breakfast,” Lydia cooes. 

“We packed a lunch though,” Odette assures and smiles at her brother, Kasper smiling at the group of young kids. 

“Who’d a thought Stiles could sleep so much? He’d rather lose his wits then sleep at all.”

“I was tired, I guess,” Stiles shrugs. Lydia bites her lip, holding back a giggle, she offers her hand to Jack and Kasper opts that they go. The small group goes trekking through the snow down by the dead, winter trees and Jack breaks from Lydia’s hands and plops his small body in the snow and rolls up a ball of snow before throwing it at Stiles, but since Stiles is much taller than him, it only hits him in the hip- Stiles laughs and throws one back, making sure not to hurt the boy and Jack squirms and giggles, throwing himself at his brother's legs, trying to push him over and Stiles laughs, holding his grounds.

“Fight me!”

“You’re gonna lose.”

“Nuh! I’m a strong man jus like them workers!” 

“You’re a little boy.”

“No!” He kicks Stiles who laughs and throws Jack over his shoulder, twirling him around. “Put me down! Put me down!” he yells, laughing hysterically as he clutches Stiles jacket to make sure he doesn’t fall.

“Say uncle!” 

“Never!”

“Surrender!”

“I’ll kick you!” 

“You wouldn’t.” Stiles clamps his legs down and the little boy squeals, trying to kick but being unable to. Lydia giggles as she watches. Jack reaching for Lydia.

“LYDIA HELP ME!” He cries and Lydia runs over to him, tickling Stiles side and he giggles, swinging with Jack in his arms. 

“No fair!” He giggles and Lydia grabs Jack when his hold loosens. “Cheater!” 

“NO! I won Jack fair and square.”

“Not true! You used force against me.”

“I strategized, I won.” 

“It was a harassed attack.”

“It was a good strategy really.”

“No it wasn’t. Don’t lie to yourself.” 

“It was, I won Jack back.”

“You  _ stole  _ him. Thief.”

“I rescued him. He’s my prince charming.”

“Oh cute.”

Stiles shakes his head and moves to take Jack back and Lydia latches herself onto his stomach, hugging his torso. She pushes him back and Stiles tries to push her off, the two stumbling and laughing and finally she pins him down to the floor and moves to sit on his stomach. 

“HAH! I  _ win.”  _

“I could easily move you off- I  _ let  _ you win.”

“Then go on ahead,  _ move me.”  _

Stiles raises an eyebrow and pins her into the snow, the girl practically sinking in the few feet that there was and the new snowfall, dusting over them, was pressing onto her face and she was giggling and so was he and they leaned into each other, forehead to forehead. “You’re a loser.”

“Oh you’ve spoke too soon,” she whispers, pressing her knee to his stomach and pinning him down, straddling his tummy victoriously, her dress spilling around them and Stiles shakes his head and he makes a move to grab her hands and she laces their fingers and pins him down. “You lost, admit it.” 

Stiles blinks up at her and he wants to pout but doesn’t, he squeezes her hands before flipping them over and and then moving to sit on his knees beside her and he starts to bury her in snow. Caden sees this and curiously walks over before sitting down, putting his little maple leaf aside (Odette picks it up so he doesn’t lose it) and starts to bury Lydia in snow with his brother- who laughs happily. “You’re trapped, no escaping now.”

“JAAAACCK!” She calls and he looks up from where he is making a snowman with Kasper to aid her, starting to throw the snow Stiles put on, off, and Stiles piles more on. The four are giggling furiously and Lydia tries to wiggle. “Stiles I’m cooooold quit it!” 

Stiles laughs and kisses her cheek, Jack pushing him. “She’s  _ my  _ fair maiden, you can’t kiss her!” 

“She may your fair maiden, but she’s my fiancee. You’ve got nothing in comparison, really.”

“Oh don’t break his heart, he loves me more than you,” Lydia cooes sitting up from the cold and kissing Jack on the cheek, the boy grinning victoriously. Stiles laughs at the two and shakes his head softly. He leaned over and kisses her cheek before standing and dusting himself off. 

“I think I’m going to head to Stoker’s. Do any of you want to come?” 

They all shook their heads, even little Caden who was stuck beside their grandfather, examining one of the leaves. “Can we go look for owls in the woods grampy?” the little boy asks and Kasper booms in laughter. 

“Of course. Stiles, are you going to call the carriage?” 

“No, I think I ought’a to walk.”

“I can come with you, let’s go inside and grab him some cookies first,” Lydia says as she stands and he nods, the girl kissing him straight on the lips, Jack pouting. 

“That’s my girl! You can’t kiss her!”

Stiles laughs against her lips, hand slipping to her waist as they part giggling. “You don’t say? Last time I checked, you were too young to have a girl,” Stiles counters.

“Lydia, don’t you love me more than Stiles?”

“Mm  I do love you lots but Stiles is more my type,” she cooes, pinching his cheeks. Jack pouts before shrugging.

“Elizabeth Argent is way cuter than you anyways,” he says before shrugging and running over to Caden who he hugs. Caden squeals happily and shows off the leaf he found. 

Stiles laces his hand with Lydia and kisses her engagement ring, she smiles at him. “You’re feeling tender.”

“I think it’s the christmas in the air- you know what I mean?”

“I suppose.” She giggles and they head on towards the house and inside to the warmth, their noses and cheeks bright red from the cold. They move upstairs to grab the cookies and Stiles grabs his gift for Stoker, Lydia watching him pack it carefully in a satchel that he slings over his shoulder, she moves to him and hugs his torso.

“I’m sorry I was so stuck up yesterday.”

“You don’t need to apologize- you could say it’s been the highlight of our relationship.”

She slaps his neck and gives him a look. “You’re literally horrible.”

“I had to, I was being a bit too nice. But if you’re genuinely worried about it- I really don’t think you have any reason to be sorry, they were too close for comfort, I shouldn’t have let them be like that. It’s really my fault, you had a right to be upset.”

“And you still don’t regret what we did?”

“No,” he whispers, tilting her head up to kiss her briefly, their lips sliding over the other in a simple touch (she thinks it’s the closest to heaven she’s ever been). “I think I could get used to sharing body warmth. You make a good body pillow.”

She giggles. “So it was the cuddling that  _ really  _ hooked you?”

“Of course, your body is only moderately attractive,” he teases. She scoffs.

“You probably can’t stop thinking about me.”

He never could stop to begin with. “Right, of course. You just invade my every thought and solitary being- I’ll never be the same, a completely changed man.”

“I think you are… You’re different from when we first met.”

“Things change my dear.”  
“You’ve changed.”

Stiles gives a taut smile and kisses her cheek. “I don’t think I’ve changed much. It doesn’t matter how much you think I have- you just know me a little better.”

“And that’s a change for us.”

“Sure but y’all won’t be impressed with who I really am. Let’s be honest, things won’t ever change for me. I’ll always be the Stilinski boy, I’ll always be who my father was.”

“You don’t have to be.”

“I don’t have a choice.” 

  
  


They reach Stoker’s house in no time, mostly walked there in the thick, trodden snow. They walked along though and it didn’t matter so much- it was a bit later in the day, around Lunch and most people, spare the few that were lingering by shops or looking for shelter, were inside. The town square was quiet, peaceful, and the snow created a white noise over the world as it fell slowly, softly, and Stiles and Lydia climbed through to the building where they entered and stood in the frozen entry. Stiles shivers a bit, it was colder in the building than it was outside. He wonders how that could even be but he shakes it off, takes Lydias hand and leads her upstairs where they find warmth on the last floor, entering to the smell of warm eggnog and something cinnamony. 

“Oh Mister Stoker!” Stiles calls innocently and Stoker hobbles out of the kitchen with a beaming smile at the sound of the young man's voice. “I got you a present and Lydia made you cookies.”

“My don’t you look nice today, that coat suits you,” he compliments. “Come in, sit down. I was just making gingerbread cookies. Oh put your things down, take your coats off. Lydia come in the kitchen and help me won’t you?” 

Lydia nods and follows him to the small kitchen and watches what he’s doing. “I’m not very good at this whole cooking thing and I’m very new at it, sorry to tell you Mister Stoker.”

The man laughs. “There’s still time for you to learn my dear. The boys are coming today!” he announces happily and Stiles wanders in smiling.

“Your sons?” 

Stoker nods excitedly and Stiles laughs, though he would be devastated if they didn’t actually show.  He sits at the kitchen table and watches the two. Stoker leads Lydia to a big basin full of cookie dough (that was barely half empty) and shows her how to shape them with the cutters and cook them properly. He then ushers Stiles up and tells her to help him while he sits down. 

“I’m old, I need to sit,” he proclaims and Stiles nods. 

Stiles goes to stand with lydia the two laying out sheets of cookies and starting to cut them and shape them and mold them. They’re giggling and having the best time. She lays them onto a tray as Stiles removes a fresh batch of ready cookies. He puts them on the ledge by the open window to cool, Stiles has to remove his jacket because it’s so hot in the kitchen and he’s sweating really. 

“So when’s the wedding officially?” Stoker asks as Stiles puts his Jacket down on an empty chair.

“What do you mean? I told you this.”

“You did?”

“Yeah I did… March 16th, remember?”

“Aye I remember now. You two excited and all?”

“For sure!” Lydia giggles happily. “I mean, I can’t wait until I get my dress. Who doesn’t love big parties that are all about them?”

Stoker laughs. “Just like Claudia, ya heard me girl? You’re sweet as dandelions, really.” 

Lydia grins and continues cutting cookies and arranging them in the tray. They do this until it’s all done. Sweet little nudges and exchanges passing between her and Stiles. It takes hours, and soon it’s completely dark and the boys still aren’t there yet. Though it was only 5 o’clock, perhaps earlier, Stiles and Lydia stay to wait with him. 

They eat cookies, they drink warm egg nog, stoker opens his gift from Stiles to find a painting. “Oh! You’ve improved! Look how nice it is, and the lines are so  _ clean.  _ It’s like the modern art from France,” Stoker gloats as he shows Lydia the painting and she’s beaming, near tears as she watches the old man. He’s happier than he’s ever been. “Oh and look- look there you are darling, in the background of the painting. Doesn’t he make it all look so beautiful? I told you Miezech, you oughta paint more but you insist on cooping yourself up in courtrooms and that office all day. Look what you can do! Get out there! Have fun with your life, this…” he gestures around him. “This is nonsense. It’s all worldly and bull shit, it don’t get you nowhere. But you’re rich, you’re young- you could stay outside and  _ paint  _ all day. Did you know Jordy loved to paint? Oh he was a splendid painter! Lord I hope he brought one of his paintings with him-”

The door knocks and Stiles puts out a hand to intend that Stoker stays seated and he rises to get the door. It’s the mailman who is there rather than one of Stoker’s sons. “Is everything alright?” Stiles asks and the man nods. 

“Yes of course. But I received a telegram for Mister Stoker.”

 

The telegram read: 

 

_ Dear Father _ _   
_ _    I know it was promised we show tonight for Christmas but alas we’ve been held up at Ulysses house for a party and couldn’t head out to see you soon enough. Though perhaps we’ll come over spring. _

_ With all good intentions _

_ Jordy, John and Justin- your sons.  _

 

“They’re not coming?” The man asks heartbroken, his eyes going wide and soft with sadness and Stiles feels his own heart break, stoker had been so excited, so thrilled to see his sons and his grandchildren- and they snatched that right from him. Stiles sees a tear slide down his cheek and Stiles sits beside him. 

“Mister Stoker, please don’t cry- I could talk to them-”

“Where did I go wrong Stiles? I gave my life and blood to them, we had the biggest house on the edge of town. I made them happy!” He cried. “They all left me! They wouldn’t care if I died tomorrow!” he yells, standing and hobbling over to the kitchen and Stiles stands to follow him, wincing as he hears the pans clang to the floor and a plate break. “I gave them everything! I did everything for them! I broke my back for those boys! They can’t even visit me for Christmas GOD DAMMIT! WHAT DID I DO WRONG? TELL ME!” he yells smashing another plate before slumping into the chair and sobbing, Stiles walking in solemnly as he follows, looking to the cross on the wall- knowing full well God had no answer for him as to why his sons were so cruel and Stiles feels his heart break. He had never seen the man so upset. All the cookies resided on the floor now. He was heart broken. 

Stiles sits beside him, Lydia remains in the doorway watching. “I care Mister Stoker, I would care if you were dead tomorrow- you’re all I’ve got sometimes.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I literally was about to cry writing the scene with stoker, literally


	31. Chapter 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> rumor has it. mp3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> all my chapter summaries are just going to be the ".mp3" meme from now on  
> also there's a credited excerpt from a Charles Dickens novels that Stiles is reading- its called Cricket on the Hearth. You can literally google it and find a PDF if you're interested!   
> pdf i used: http://www.ibiblio.org/ebooks/Dickens/Cricket/Dickens_Cricket.pdf

It’s January first, Stiles family still lingered around the house. New year's morning and she was already exasperated, she didn’t think she could listen to Mari talk for another minute. She wants to rip her ears out and scream, the girl never  _ shut up.  _ It was pure torture listening to her and Lydia wholeheartedly blamed Stiles for this, she glares at him slightly from across the room, where he looked amused and entertained, but Lydia would later learn he was putting up an imagine- appeasing the audience he was presented too. She hated that he so naturally found conversation in every person he talked too. There he was, smiling, and she would never know he was dying of boredom on the inside. 

Stiles smiles wittingly at the man before he pours himself another cup of tea, sipping slowly. He could care less, he didn’t agree with a single thing that came out of his mouth but he was nobody to oppose the husband of his beloved Aunt Carol. He wonders if she’s genuinely happy with the asshole or if she silently suffers through his endless talking and meaningless opinions the way he’s doing right now. He looks towards Lydia and wonders if she feels the same- he’s not entirely sure and doesn’t have time to go into it because the man is harping on his attention span like a hawk. God Stiles couldn’t focus this much, you needed to reel him in every five seconds, otherwise he was a lost cause. 

“I’m sorry, what did you say?” Stiles asks, giving a polite smile. “I just lost thought on something, but I’m here now.”

“I was just saying- you’re a lawyer, you must know all about those kind of things- what with the slaves states and free states and what not.”

“Oh sure, I have some knowledge of it. Why do y’all wanna know?”

“It’s good to be political.”

“Right of course.”

“Are you going to talk about it?”

Stiles is about to remark when his father gives him a sharp look and Stiles shrugs. “It’s quite simple, it’s just a matter of the vote of the state- which must be from all genuine residents, which was the problem with Kansas and why it had to be voted on so many times. It’s really not supposed to be complicated and it more depends on the need of slaves or not. Popular Sovereignty.”

“Ah that’s quite interesting-” 

_ Asshole, you don’t actually care  _ Stiles thinks but nods along as he listens to him talk. He’d really rather jump off a bridge than listen to such mindless droning, to such highly acquired opinion- as if he were king or something. Stiles glances about and just has nothing to say or do and the more the man talks to him, the more he longs for a piston to be held to his head just so he could escape this situation. Stiles doesn’t think he’d ever been so greatful to hear the dinner bell in his entire life, his head shoots up to look at the bell in surprise, snapping from his thoughts and relief washes over him. 

He meets Lydia halfway and she smiles. “Having a good time are you?”

“If I’m not shot in the head by tomorrow, I might do it myself. He never shuts up,” Stiles whispers, seeming physically pained and she giggles at his sudden vulnerability.

“I feel the same about your cousin Mari,” she whispers. 

Stiles gives her a pointed look and she shrugs. “Mari does love to hear her own voice but at least hearing about charities is bearable. He doesn’t  _ actually  _ care about politics. I think I almost smacked him in the face a few times for being so evidently wrong. And everyone is up his-” stiles stops and takes a breath and Lydia laughs softly. 

“I think we both need a bit of a break,” she teases. “How much longer are they staying?”

“At this rate, they’re never leaving,” he mumbles and smiles at his mother who is watching them from across the room. “We should get going,” he says and laces their hands as they start to shuffle out. Lydia could hear Mari going on about some new fashion and rolls her eyes, Stiles huffs and his head lolls to the side before he looks up for a moment, counting to five to cool off as he listens to his aunt’s husband loudly proclaim something about the ‘negros are inhuman! How can we expect them to tend to themselves?’ Boyd looks ready to remove the glove on his hand and smack him with it. Stiles rolls his eyes after and squeezes Lydia’s hand, she kisses his knuckles- he can see the look of attack on his mother and Nanas features. 

“That man is going to get himself killed by my momma,” Stiles mumbles. “Jesus Christ she look like she bout’a grab the shotgun from the mantel and shoot him. Boyd looks like he’s going to give him a royal smack in the face and knowing my father- he’s being a fake and agreeing.”

“Don’t you do that? Agree with what you disagree on?”

“No. I passively let it go, I don’t argue it. There’s a difference. Though when somebody says something like that- you oughta tell it to them that they’re bumbling idiots who just like the sound of their own pretentious voice.” 

Lydia scoffs and places a gloved hand on Boyd’s arm and smiles. “Keep your wits, they’ll be gone soon.”

“I sure hope so, Lady Martin,” he mumbles and she giggles. “Y’all git to dinner and make sure your mama don’t cut that man in half. Lord knows she would- wouldn’t she?” 

“Course,” Stiles says and they smile at each other before they exit the room and Boyd shuts the door behind them. Everyone settles at the large table in the dining room, Stiles and Lydia beside each other due to every other seat being taken. Stiles looks around the table and leans over to whisper to her. “See Uncle Rodger? He’s sleeping with one of the maids in his household but Auntie doesn’t know yet.”

“How do you know?”

“He said so. She’s young too.”

“How young?” she whispers, leaning in a bit, smiling, his smirk was mischevious as he shrugs.

“I’d say maybe 22 the oldest, but he says she’s young but she ain’t no child. Sleepin with her in the rooms when his wife isn’t lookin,” he whispers in her ear, the conversation stuck in a world between only the two of them.

“The poor woman. You’d never do that to me, would you?”

“God no, I’m not a pig.”

“I believe it. You really are a gentleman most of the time. What’s the story behind that man you hate so much?”

“I don’t know, but rumor has it is he and Aunty Carol…” he did a bit of an eyebrow raise and a side eye and she nods knowingly. “So out of being scared for potential pregnancy they marred the two.”

“Good thing you never got caught-”

“Good thing you got caught.”

They break into giggles, hiding behind napkins like children. “Did she ever get pregnant?”

“Not that I know of.”

She nods and they both turn as Brett clears his throat. “I’m not happy playing footman as it is, would you two quit flirting and move me along,” he whispers a bit harshly and Stiles tries not to laugh at his unhappy Valet, looking at the lobster legs on the plate. 

“Do I want one? Lydia what do you say.”

“It’s not lobster season but lobster is always a good choice,” she says, the two leaning back to look at him and he smiles as a few are looking at the three. 

“Whatever you want  _ M’Lord, _ ” Brett exaggerates, waiting on Stiles who’s biting back laughter before taking one of the legs and setting it on his plate, capri salads being passed around next and he takes one of those too. Lydia and him are well off, giggling and flirting through dinner. 

“My mom used to sleep with this Italian guy who worked in our house,” she whispers and Stiles seems interested, his eyebrows raising. “They would have the  _ loudest  _ sex and he was like 17, she was like 35 maybe. Can you even imagine? And then she becomes a real shining Diva, belongs in the MET and all, when word of me and Jackson leak.”

“You think that’s bad? I knew my dad was carrying an affair with one of the younger maids for awhile after momma had Jack and Caden- god, she never knew but somebody oughta have told her. Of course, I didn’t understand too well back then but well enough to know daddy kissin another woman wasn’t good news.”

“She ever find out?”

Stiles shook his head and cuts into the ham in his plate. He slides the thin, folded over slice in his mouth, and Lydia follows suit, taking a forkful of rice. They were cute, if you asked anybody at the table- they were ‘in love’ and ‘so young’ and ‘so innocent’. Everybody thought they were this fresh pair, these darling two- all regards of Lydia’s past forgotten as they ‘flirt and giggle’ without a single notion that the two were gossiping away about everybody at the table. 

“Thank God, momma would have shot him. She would never let him get away with something like that- granted it would never be a deadly shot, just enough to make him regret that it wasn’t deadly.”

“I adore your mother.”

Stiles chuckles. “She’s not one to take it from anybody.”

“Can’t imagine how you were conceived,” she teases and Stiles gives her a look and shakes his head. 

“We’re eating.”

“Mmm I know. What you’re not mature enough for a little talk?”

“Oh  _ please.  _ I’m just saying, it’d be nice to have some manners occasionally.” 

“I have more manners than the people at this table, apparently.”

“Oh right, of course,” he cooes. They exchange brief glances down at each others lips before glancing away and back to their plates. It isn’t long before dinner is over and they’re back in the drawing rooms, just sitting around- some people pushing it to get drunk, others just laughing too loud. Stiles and Lydia are in a corner of the room where two couches were talking with each other because God did they need a break. Stiles couldn’t hear another man talk shit politics anymore and Lydia couldn’t stand to hear about Charity or useless fashion tidbits anymore.

They just needed time away. 

“Of course, I finally started that new Charles Dickens novel, though I’m awfully sorry I started it without you- I was awfully bored a couple nights ago,” Stiles informs.

“Well suppose we can sneak into the library or I could sneak into your room tonight and you could reread it to me?” 

“If you want… I would like that,” he mumbles and she nods, the two swaying a bit to lean in but resist. “I also want to kiss you.”

“Later… tell Brett to get me and we can do whatever pleases us…” she whispers and he bites his lip a bit.

“Don’t get too ahead of yourself,” he mumbles.

“Oh don’t deprive me, you’re desperate.”

“I am  _ not _ desperate- what about the book? I thought we were going to read the book.” He pouts slightly and she can’t help herself when she melts into a smile and her thumb brushes his lower lip.

“Alright, book before or after-”

“We don’t have to… I mean… we could just read the book.”

“Oh please, you were painfully obvious yesterday morning. You were squirming in your seat.”

“That was yesterday morning.”

“So I couldn’t do anything yesterday morning. But tonight I’m all yours.”

“I told you we’re not-”

“I know but I can get you off just fine,” she whispers and his cheeks turn pink and she grins victoriously. “You’re  _ shy _ .” She thinks for a moment. “How sweet.”

“Please stop,” he mumbles, shaking his head. “Tonight we’re reading a book.”

“And getting you off.”

“Books.”

“And sex.”

“Reading the book, that’s it.”

“Are you sure?”

“We’ve never…”

“You knew what i meant.”

“Of course I did…” he laughs a bit nervously and she kisses his cheek.

“Don’t worry so much, you’re much prettier when you’re not worried.”

“Thanks I think…” he mumbles, their hands laced and kisses the ring on her finger- she thinks it’s sweet when he does that, as if he’s reminding himself what he’s allowed to have, that she’s his. She likes that, that he wants to be with her.

 

Her lips trace his neck as he reads, the two only in their pajamas, her hands caressing his chest. “ _ Let me narrate exactly how it happened. I should have proceeded to do so in my very first word, but for this plain consideration- if I am to tell a story I must begin at the beginning and how is it possible to begin at the beginning, without beginning at the kettle?  _

_ It appeared as if there were a sort of match, or trial of skill, you must understand, between the kettle and the cricket. And this is what lead to it, and how it came about.” (passage from The Cricket on the Hearth by Charles Dickens)  _

She thinks his voice is sweet as honey and it reads the words so smoothly with such a familiar vibrancy to it. Lydia can barely be anything but focused on his words because they are full of such a strong conviction- she realizes that Stiles best trick is that he makes you believe in every word he says, he fills it with power and it makes you want to cling to every word he has to say. She clings to his every word, because that’s all that she can do. She’s drawn like a moth to flame. His voice is so soothing and she feels herself drifting into a haze as she listens, her lips sucking gently on his lower neck and soon she lets up and nestles into him, fingers gently grazing and scratching at his lower belly under his shirt along the hairs of his stomach, tracing the trail down to his hips before grazing back up. 

He’s so relaxed, soothed by the simple movements that lull him into a soft reading voice, soon he resigns to the end of page sixteen. He shuts the book and puts it down, Lydia adjusting and pulling him into a kiss, their lips meeting softly, her hands going to his hair, holding his head as she adjusts herself into his lap and he holds her by the hips, kissing her with all the love in his heart, her hands tracing down his firm chest and his own hands tracing up her body to her free breasts under her nightgown, she arches forward slightly to meet him and he smiles slightly against her lips.

“I thought we were just reading,” she whispers. 

“Whatever you want,” he mumbles and she grounds her hips down against him slightly, their lips meeting again. 

“I want  _ you _ .” 

“I was just thinking the same thing.”

“What do you mean?”

“That I like this, I want you for the rest of my life- no matter how much you convince yourself that I’m somehow bound to be with Elizabeth Darcy, there’s nobody else I could see in my bed just to read a  _ book.  _ You’re ridiculous and I love it… I love you.”

Lydia melts into a grin, her forehead pressing into his and she doesn’t know what to say, she’s astonished and shocked and her fingers are absently scratching at the short hairs on the back of his neck. “I love you too Stiles. I love you so much.”

Stiles grins and their lips meet in a kiss again, their bodies shifting so she’s under him and his hand traces up her thigh and his fingers rub against her panties where she needs it most- she sighs softly with a small smile on her face, the two exhaling in a slight unison as they break into a kiss again- and god she never thought she could be so happy. She was  _ wrong.  _


	32. Chapter 29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> can you feel the love tonight. mp3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my aesthetic is Lizzy tell me about her crush and her awkward experiences

 

The demeaning problem remains that this whole ordeal was improper and explicitly shameful. As they sat to dinner with their parents, they were sat on either end of the table and they weren’t deemed to socialize, where they normally would have been. Allison stares longingly at the other end of the table, wishing for Scott to look back over at her, but alas he doesn’t, he barely looks up from his plate. And when he does, it’s always to address somebody else over her.

So suppose this wasn’t their fault- they really weren’t floundering together but his parents had a strict and tasteful dislike for her. Her parents, while less strict and more moldable, didn’t prefer she made a scene and so they had always sat close but not too close for comfort- much like Stiles and Lydia were doing right now at their family dinner, where they were gossiping about the uncle who’s cheating with the maid. But they were different, they were engaged- Allison and Scott were not yet and engaged and his mother didn’t seem awfully kind on the Argent’s daughter who stringing her son along. He had told her that his mother wasn’t too happy when he came home late the night of Christmas Eve without a tangible excuse to hold onto. The woman was catching on that her son was messing in the sheets with a young woman and neither wanted to be exposed nor could they afford to be.

Which meant they had to sit like this pretending the other didn’t exist, beside their parents, on opposite ends of the table, making only brief and polite conversation at best. Allison missed him though, missed talking to him all the time and he really was just in arms reach, but yet, he was so far away. Though they were staying at the boarders house, renting it until they were due to leave. They figured they’d stay until after Stiles and Lydia married- since the event was coming up fast.

Scott finally meets her eyes and she’s relieved, a pliant smile on her face as she glances back down towards her food, she glances back up and sees the small smile on his own face. They missed each other, but the tension between them and their parents was ever growing- if Scott didn’t do something soon they would never be able to speak again, all because it wasn’t proper. A man and a woman should correlate no relation when not suspected to marry or already engaged to do so- Allison and Scott had been playing at it too long, but with Isaac already forging a relationship of his own, there’s weren’t many other options for her… and all she really wanted was Scott. To love Scott. But Scott, who was a mere few feet away from her, felt as if he was completely out of her reach, a cold air struck between them. She longed to meet him again with a smile in the kiss like the day he surprised her in the drawing room, so beautifully decorated by the light that streamed in and twinkled against the tan skin he got from his mother- he was so beautiful and she just wanted to be beautiful with him. 

These are the kind of daydreams Theo Raeken wouldn’t dare to have. He’s sitting there at the dinner table and once again, unlike Stiles and Lydia, he cannot have what he wants. And even unlike Allison and Scott, he’s further in distance from what he wants. What he would do to be at this table socializing with Josh, who was merely just a boy from the village (and a half hispanic one at that) who was poor with nothing- he was a social elite, he was rich and beautiful and expected to marry a woman and make heirs. He had no options whatsoever, he knew it was life in the eyes of the world with a woman or death beside his true love who was undoubtedly a man. 

“I mean I thought it was lovely, didn’t you think so?” Martha Thickette, a rich, beautiful girl from down the street asks, her green eyes ablaze against his skin and Theo smiles and nods.

“Oh yes, it was a splendid party if you ask me. Their garden was enchanting- and they made such a handsome couple, you wouldn’t ever imagine it, now would you?”

Theo looks about the way and he sees nothing of interest and turns back to Martha as she continues to talk. Sure she’s charming enough but she doesn’t captivate him in any way a man could- especially Stiles who he recalls being intensely infatuated with their last year at Harvard University. He remembers Stiles talking about the girls that were around and how stuck up he thought they were and how some of them were pretty, but the girls back home were prettier. They had roomed together all three years and Theo found himself deeply in love with the young man- he recalls one night drunkly kissing him, he also recalls the awkward and tense way Stiles tried to move from him, tried to insist it was just the liquor speaking (and he never really could tell if Stiles liked it or not because it lasted for a moment until the other pulled away). Stiles had been so youthful then, and he recalls hating how hard and untouchable he seemed to become with age, he remembers telling Stiles that he loved him and Stiles softened and told him that he was crazy.

Theo remembers a lot about Stiles, Theo thinks of every daring fantasy he’s ever had and he wonders what it’s like to know every mole and sun-freckle on the boys skin, what it’s like to hear him talk for hours (even if he knew, he missed it) and Theo thinks that a part of him still loves Stiles but the rest of him accepts that it wasn’t meant to be and moves along- there are other men, there was  _ Josh.  _ He doesn’t really love Josh though, the man was too rough around the edges and god did he love to abuse any substance that could misplace him. Theo thinks he just likes  the idea of Josh- of being able to get the release he needs, of being able to escape to a world where he could be himself with somebody. And he thinks (hopes) Josh feels the same. Really he does. 

As soon as dinner is let out, Theo is ushered by Martha to sit with them and the rest of the youth out on the balcony even if it’s a chilly January first. They all have drinks and Martha is talking and laughing with somebody- Theo thinks she’s awfully nice but his attention is pulled by Corey, a sweet younger man who had recently moved from Kentucky.

“You know she’s awfully nice, Martha,” he points out and Theo nods.

“Yeah she is, ain’t she?” Theo replies with a smile.

“You’re not all that interested though, are you?” Corey whispers.

Theo raises a brow and both laugh. “I think I have an idea in what we’re  _ both  _ interested in.”

“As nice as it sounds, I don’t think my parents ae keen on staying late-”

“Oh trust me, mine would never let a party go early-”

“A TOAST TO THE NEW YEAR!” Martha proclaims and everybody else in a sort of blurred white noise yells ‘to the new year!’ and they’re drinking, all except Theo and Corey who are enraptured in each other.  _ But what about Josh?  _

Theo bites his lip. “I’m… seeing somebody,” he whispers.

“I am too,” Corey whispers. “He’s a slave at the house but he’s fine as hell.”

“Mines a craftsman in the village,” Theo mumbles and they both look down in petit laughter.

“Think we can make exceptions for the night, see what it’s like to taste a rich tongue?”

“There’s more than I’m willing to take.”

“Mmm maybe,” corey muses and Theo bites his lip slightly.

It’s not until later that they’re in one of the smaller bedrooms with the door locked hatched behind them and Theo melts into the younger boys kiss, holding him by the lapels as they breathe into each other, sloppy, noisy kisses place on the other as they held each other. It was late at night, they were desperate, they were lingering and needy and caught in a drought- there wasn’t any love when love was a secret, Theo thought he liked the taste of Corey a lot more than he did the taste of Josh- Corey thought that Theo tasted sweet but not as sweet as Mason. 

  
  


Stiles thought she was going to kill him the way she was acting, it seemed everything he did to her was better this time. His one hand pressed deep into her folds and working her furiously while the other worked at her wet clit. Lydia was losing it- and god he was so glad that his room was soundproof for the most part because Lydia might as well had been screaming. She could barely touch him or anything else for that matter, hands floundering in the air as they looked for something to grip before one settled on his arm, manicured nails digging into the hard, muscled flesh there and the other gripped the pillow under her head as she turned into it and he angled himself, getting her off as she cried into the pillow- a look of pure joy and ecstasy on her face.

He loved that about Lydia- the way she could  _ smile  _ while he got her off because she was so enticed and so absolutely enraptured by him. It was a facial expression that he had never seen on Malia, one of pure pleasure, cries of absolute ecstasy and it wasn’t long until she was constriction around him in release, her noises growing to a mere whimper as she collapsed on her back from pleasure. He pulls his hands away from him, his wet fingers against the bed as she pulls him over her for a kiss and she’s greeted with how absolutely  _ hard  _ he still is- once she’s regained her breath, she pushes him down on the bed and he’s watching her, her wet center up against the smooth upper thigh of his left leg. She’s straddling him there and he thinks it’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

“You don’t have to.”

“I want to,” she affirms, taking him in her hand and starting a fast paced rhythm- he’s a lot more quiet than she but he’s also more expressive in face and she doesn’t mind the lack of sound in turn of the lip bite and the way his neck tilts back slightly. He curses lowly and he riles her behind belief- his normally clean vocabulary soiled in the wake of his unearthly pleasure. Its something she knows is reserved for her and she doesn’t think anybody else could have this, this sheer vulnerability that he’s given up to her- everybody else seems to be forgotten. Even jackson, who she recalls being much smaller in size (at least, way below average if you asked her, Stiles was at least, the average of 6 inches or so she estimates), was nothing in comparison in any way, shape or form to the lover that Stiles was. She thinks she’s biased because of her love for him, she decides she doesn’t care.

 

Allison is lingering in the hallway with Scott and they’re just standing there awkwardly a few feet away from their parents as they watch them bid goodbye and wrap up their mingling. 

“I… I hope to see you again,” Allison says and Scott nods. 

“I wanted to give something back to you,” he says and she seems interested as he reaches into his pocket and he pulls out her silver necklace and she looks up at him.

“No I want you to keep it-” she whispers.

“I can’t… You really must take it back.”

She seems heartbroken at best but takes it with a sorrow smile. “You… You still-”

“Love you? Of course… But I don’t think I could keep something you favor so greatly. It’s yours to have and to hold.”

“What about you? Are you mine?”

“I can’t make a single promise, Allison. I don’t know… where things are really standing right now and I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be… It’ll be figured out,” She promises and he nods, he wants to lean over and kiss her head and promise that he’d come back for her but he doesn’t know anymore. They exchange broken smiles and Scott is called away to his father.

They get in their carraige and Scott breaks the silence. “I want to marry Allison.”

“What is that?” His father asks. 

“ _ Me quiero casar Allison _ , I want to marry Allison,” he repeats and both his parents are staring at him now. “la amo.”

“You don’t know anything about love,” his father scoffs in his brisk accent and Scott watches wide eyed. “That girl… she’s something else. She’s too wild seeming. Why do you want her when you could have a nice conservative girl? A nice catholic girl?”

“I don’t want a catholic girl, I want Allison, papa.”

Melissa watches confused and Scott turns to his mother, pleading in Spanish to approve of his decision and she shrugs. “ _ Por qué no _ ? “ 

Rafael sighs and Melissa takes his hand and tries to smile for him. “If he is happy- then what are we to stop that love?” She says in a broken English. Rafael doesn’t have much to say.

“Fine but if you get yourself caught in Scandal, I have nothing to do with Scott.”

“Really? You approve?”

His mother smiles and nods and Stiles grins, kissing his mother's cheek and hugging her. “Thank you! Thank you!” 

 

Their post coital state is a sticky, messy kind of state, they’re both panting with her body strewn ontop of him, her hands playing with his hair, her head resting on his shoulder. “I think we need a bath.”

“I’ll ring for Brett,” Stiles says and reaches over to tug the rope. Brett is up a while later and they’re still under the sheets and Lydia is curled into Stiles a bit shyly and Brett and rolls his eyes.

“You rang?” He asks and Stiles grins.

“I don’t think i’m accepting any of your replies unless  _ M’lord  _ is tagged on the end.”

Brett sighs and glances towards the cieling before glaring back down at him. Stiles continues talking. “Is that a kink you have? You know- with only your male lovers of course… unless it’s the females too.”

“You’re such a dirty bastard. You’re lucky I don’t tell your mother on you.”

“And do what? Get yourself fired or something because literally nobody else would talk an orphan half-assed homosexual.”

“Is that what it’s called? Half assed homosexuality? I always called it being fifty percent.”

Stiles laughed. “Whatever. But  _ you  _ wouldn’t tell because I never told.”

“Whatever, did you call me into your post coital for a reason or are am I just here to be aware you had sex five minutes ago?”

“Ten minutes ago,” Lydia corrects. “We were wondering if you wanted to join- naked of course,” she teases giggling flirtatiously in her lovers arms and Brett shakes his head at her.

“You’re horrible.”

“I’m wonderful, you love me,” she says, playing with the hairs on Stiles’ lower stomach. “You know I quite like you in that footman suit. It’s dashing.”

“She’s right, you look scandalously good as a Valet. I think I’ll downgrade you because you’re a mighty fine footman if you ask me.” Stiles grins and Brett frowns.

“I will  _ not  _ play the pretty footman with low pay- that’s not my job.”

“But it’s not a bad job considerably.”

“I much prefer staring at your naked body. Now what do you actually want from me? I want to go to bed and forget this hideous day had ever happened like I have been for the past week. Serving is not my token moments.”

“I can tell, Can you run us a bath and grab champagne?” Stiles asks and Brett sighs.

“Fine. Anything else?”

“Chocolate,” lydia asks cutely, adjusting the sheets over her body and Brett nods. 

“I’ll be sure nobody ruins your party,” brett assures and they grin, once he’s gone, Lydia pulls him in for a steamy kiss, holding Stiles by the hairs (god does she love his hair) and she’s not any less than pleased. 

 

“How was it?” Theo’s mother asks. “Martha was absolutely dashing wasn’t she?”

“Oh she was. I had a good time, really,” he says smiling, and he really hopes they can’t tell his lips are swollen from being kissed or that his hands are slightly sticky from getting Corey off. He hopes Josh wouldn’t mind it or anything at all and he thinks that Josh really wouldn’t, or shouldn’t. He’s probably drunk anyways. 

“Well I’m quite glad you did. And what about that new boy, Corey? His parents are absolute angels. How was there son?’

“Oh he was really quite nice. I like him.”

“I’m glad. Perhaps we’ll see more of them.”

“Of course, perhaps.” Theo smiles charmingly. “I’m off to get my valet, take a bath and sleep. Good night mother.”

“Good night darling.” 


	33. Bonus Feature + Character Analysis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ten chapters! Instead of a Character Analysis or a History Lesson I wrote up this lil thing for creative writing using "strange words" about Theo and Stiles in Harvard, so it serves as it's own story. Also I am so tired from fasting so I figured this was a pretty good give and take option, yeah? The story is in its original context unedited, if it's requested enough, I'll post an edited version!Also some character analysis at the end. A REVISED VERSION OF THIS NOW IS IN A FEW CHAPTERS IN THE FUTURE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompt - write a page-ish story using ten of these strange words (and we were giving a 6 page list of words with definitions)

It was a  **kankedort** really- the moment it happened to the moment it was over. Something that he had not been expecting before and perhaps it was the liquor speaking, perhaps it was more- nobody could be certain, not even the two of them, and best it happened in private quarters than out in the public where people would have seen and taken to heart the string of events. Though really, if it’s going to be told, he has to start from the beginning, and the beginning of it was not what happened in their dorm room at Harvard saturday night- it was their dorm room at Harvard the first day they got there, a Sunday afternoon apres a  **longueur** church sermon that they were all bound to read along with and even kept copies of after (oh the work put in). They had met while unpacking, he before him, and then him walks in and of course he is taken by him- nobody is allowed to be that handsome and really  _ it’s not his fault.  _ His eyes were the color of whiskey and he found that they were addicting to look at.

So it strikes what some may say is a  **dalliance** (it’s not, god help him if it was, it’s not, he’s not that lucky in the least) and there’s consistent banter and gossip exchanged between two southern boys who’ve found common ground in a mutual hate for all the  **sarcast** teachers and northern boys around them. Of course, Theo found the other much more intriguing than anybody else he’d ever met. It was the  _ way  _ he spoke about them rather than the content of which he spoke and Theo found that more often than not that if he was speaking, Theo would be listening- which, anybody would of course, he was a natural born speaker. If you weren’t listening you were foolish, really. And Theo had convinced himself that much.

Though time passes quite quickly and it’s the  **apricity** of a November day when they’re walking through a park to get to a store across town that he realizes what he’s feeling- of course, he knew he had a general taste for men but it simply wasn’t done- it wasn’t something that was bound to happen. They were both rich and if anything, he was a creature of duty rather not, he would never let it happen, and both of them needed to marry for heirs. Theo couldn’t help it though, it was so bitter and cold out yet the warm sun had shone along his face and it shone on him in just the right angle and Theo was caught like a fish on a hook. He was desperately clinging to his denial but deny it no longer, he was in love, if that was anything to **happify** him or his emotions (and really it wasn’t, though it part of him at ease, it worked up the rest of him and the walk became rather awkward after that because he had no idea what to say to a man he loved that really, could never love him back.) 

The true kankedort of the situation happens after they return from Christmas break and his seventeen year old counterpart is **effervescent** \- he suggests they go to a party later that evening. “Of course, there’s a place right about the way that we could go to. There’s a lot of people we know going- wouldn’t you like to go to a party, Theo?”

“Sure I would love to,” he tells him and of course, it might have been a bad idea to agree to such a thing, especially when it was with him. It was a few hours and quite the few drinks later that they get back to their dorm and Theo finds himself becoming of  **sursurrous** confessions and he’s leaning in awfully close to hear him and he’s smiling- god he’s  _ smiling.  _ His smile reaches the light of whiskey colored eyes and Theo discovers that the cause of his  **dipsomania** was the look in his eyes- he could stare forever and the need to drink his every  **involute** facial expression would never go away. 

It wasn’t long before they were closer than they should be and Theo presses his lips to the others in a long, dispassionate kiss (from the receiving end, of course) and he doesn’t think his counterpart genuinely understands what happens- Theo thinks that he’s probably drunk but he pulls away and regards the whole matter with  **dispathy** . “What are you doing?”

“I love you.”

“You’re drunk.”

“I’m serious.”

“It’s wrong.”  
“Who would know?”

“Nobody… we can’t ever mention it again.”

And that was the end of it, the most awkward and horrible situation of his life. The next morning he went about it as if it had never happened and Theo wondered if it genuinely did. He could never be certain and neither could his counterpart- who married a beautiful girl and he did too he supposed- but where his old roommate found peace in life, though he always remembered the kankedort of that evening and how his heart really hasn’t quite let up. Not at all. Not on  _ him _ .

 

* * *

 

CHARACTER ANALYSIS 

Caden + 'Mental illness' : Caden is presumed to be mentally ill, although he was born with Autism. Autistic children often are behind on learning things like how to speak and how to read and write. They tend to focus their energy on one subject and Jack does talk about this. Jack tells us that Caden doesn't do well in his lessons, he also tells us that "all he cares about is the stupid animals". Caden is also very quiet and I think his lack of speaking to most people, even his parents, is a fear of saying something wrong or not being able to say it right. Mental Illness was not a valid thing back then- Stiles talks about taking his brother to all sorts of doctors and they just think he's "shy" when there's obviously a much bigger issue at hand. Caden isn't just shy and that is something very important to note. He leans on Stiles a lot because Stiles understands him, Stiles sees that Caden needs him and I think Jack gets jealous a lot because he's too young to understand that his brother needs the help, he doesn't understand that. And i think a lot of you have noted that- that Jack doesn't understand and needs support too. And he does but I think a lot of Stiles priorities lie on Caden because he knows Caden is a more vulnerable asset. 

Theo + being gay : So this was mentioned before, I think you all knew or at least got the hint that Theo was gay before it was handed to you. If you recall in chapter 17, ,the chapter that's the day after Stiles and Lydia's engagement party, there's a line where Lydia says "She couldn't find Theo Raeken anymore either" or something along those lines, and then it cuts to a scene where Stiles is locking the door to the library and draws the shades and is in there with another man. That other man tells Stiles "You know I always loved you, I could never tag you with any name" and Stiles disregards the remark- we know this isn't the first time with the passage above. Though theo attempts to find freedom in where he is chained- he wants to be loved and that was almost never possible for people. Gay men and women often married the opposite sex for looks or they remained spinsters / bachelors the rest of their lives. Being gay was dangerous, there were laws in many European countries and a major Sodemy law in California that prohibited people from like being gay. They weren't allowed and if they were they could be jailed for life. Many people were beaten, many people lost all their status, some people were killed over it. It was a brutal, very like... unkind environment towards gay men and women. Uhm I think Theo being gay isn't really a statement for his character but definitely a statement for the conflict he's bound to face. This idea of loving somebody who'll never love you back, this idea of never being able to have what you want, of having to keep things secret from people you love the most- and I think that kind of keeping will lead to a bigger conflict for him in the future, this idea of him loving Stiles or him loving a future lover that i have planned for him. 

Stoker + Stiles : Stoker is literally ancient, most people back then didn't live past 55 and Stoker is 97. He's raised tons of kids in the town, he's watched so many people grow and pass and he's still alive. It's almost like he's immortal- everything he loves leaves. And the only thing that seems constant in the past 19 years of his life is a young man named Mieczyslaw Stilinski. A young, bright eyed man that always walked into the office and went "oh mr stoker! When I'm older Imma be just like you!" and then ten years later said bright eyed man graduated at the head of his class from Harvard and he did become just like him. Just keep that in mind, that Stiles is essentially the closest thing to a son Stoker has. And keep in mind that Stiles and his own father don't have the most stable relationship but Stoker was always there for him. There's a key element between them that's bound to flourish and it really plays a role in Stiles life, it really affects Stiles and who he is as a person, who he's going to become by the end of this story. 


	34. Chapter 30

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fools . mp3  
> Youth . mp3

Claudia suspected it, the way they left the room together hand in hand, whispering and smiling- their cheeks a bit flushed- and perhaps she saw them but nobody else really did. The way he held her and lead her upstairs. She had half a mind to go on up there and see what they’re up to in that moment but it was practically inescapable and by the time the night had winded over, she was too tired to truly check on him, but she does pop her head in, and in the dark she can’t see Lydia curled up with her head pressed to his chest, the covers over her. She smiles at her son and shuts the door softly, walking back to bed. She figures she’d talk to him in the morning.

 

The next morning Lydia wakes up to see Stiles sleeping, his mouth gaping slightly, cheek pressed to the pillow, hair tousled, arm somewhere over his head and she giggles at him because he looks silly. She’s about to kiss him when a knock sounds at the door and she knows it’s not Brett- he wouldn’t’ve knocked, and she quickly scrambles out of the bed and the knock sounds again as she runs into the bathroom and shuts the door silently, Stiles sitting up confused. 

“Who is it?” he calls and the door opens with his mother there. “Mama? What’s the matter.”

“I just wanted to talk to you before you called Brett,” she said. “Are you okay?” She asks, seeing the startled look on his features and he blinks a bit.

“Yeah I just… I was in a deep sleep that’s all. You startled me, that’s really it.”

“Right… You and Lydia left early last night.” 

“Yeah we did,” he agrees.

“Where’d you go?”

“We just came in here to read on the balcony. I was reading her the new book I bought. The Charles Dickens one?”

“Oh? Where is she now?”

“Probably her bed.”

“And that’s all that happened?”

Stiles nods slowly, looking at his mother with wide innocent eyes. “Why?”

“Nothing…” she says glancing around the room, looking for something that could possibly out of place before looking back at him, eyes narrowing. “I trust you, you know.”

“I know.”

“You’re telling the truth right? I shouldn’t have to worry.”

“Mama the wedding is in two months, there’s nothing we could possibly be doing that can’t wait. Why are you so concerned?”

“I just don’t want you ending up like Carol-”

“I can’t though, we’re getting married one way or another.”

“That doesn’t mean you can-”

“I know, momma,” he says exasperated. “Why are you even up so early? This couldn’t have waited?”

“ _ Don’t  _ sass me, I work too hard for you to loud mouth me like that- you hear?”

“Yes mama,” he mumbles. 

“So if I checked now, she’d be in her room?” Claudia asks. 

“I would  _ imagine.  _ I thought you trusted me?” God he was a dirty liar, lying straight to his mothers face but he wasn’t lying entirely- they didn’t genuinely have sex, they just preluded the idea of sex. Preparation in a way. Getting used to the others touch. Though he felt a bit guilty, the knot tying in his stomach, he tried not to let it show. 

“I do trust you- I’m just making sure. God help you if you’re lying-”

“I’m not lying Mama!” He snaps and she seems taken aback. 

“Alright then,” she mumbles standing to leave.

“Wait mama, I didn’t mean it like that,” he says, getting up after her and she holds up her hand.

“You’ve made it very clear that you want to be left alone. So help me for looking out for you-”

“Mama, it’s  _ early _ , I didn’t mean anything by it-”

“Go back to bed,” She says, and his shoulders slump as she slams the door shut.  _ Of course  _ she throws a big fit about this. He slumps back in bed and he thinsk that Lydia would come out from hiding but doesn’t. 

Claudia walks over to the girls room where she finds Lydia staring up at the cieling on her bed. “Morning Lydia.”

“Morning Claudia, am I late to breakfast?” She asks and Claudia shakes her head, sitting beside Lydia on the bed. “What’s the matter?”

“I feel like all my babies are growing up and I don’t know where the time went. I know Stiles never means any harm but I forget he’s not a  _ child  _ anymore- and then it makes m e feel like a horrible mother because I still waltz in on him while he’s sleeping to make sure he’s okay.”

“That’s not a bad thing, really,” Lydia says, sitting up beside Claudia. “He loves you really- he’s always saying how wonderful you are.”

“Does he really?”

“He does. Honestly, I won’t be half the mother you are- but he’s awfully good with children so I suppose that makes up for it.”

“You’re good with children too, don’t you know that?”

“I might but honestly, I don’t think I’m anything special. I’ve never even been around a baby before.”

“You’ll do fine.”

“I’m worried I won’t make a good wife…”

“Stiles already thinks you’re the best woman to face the earth.”

“How do you know?”

“It’s the way he looks at you… John used to look at me that way when we were younger.”

Lydia hesitates. “Things aren’t going to fall apart between Stiles and I are they?”

“Not at all. Unlike his father, Stiles doesn’t have a single mean bone in his body. I know he  _ acts  _ that way sometimes- like he could defeat the world with a single cold bearing look, but he’s not that kind of man. He just does what he deems necessary… a lot like my father does. And as a long as you leave your faith in him, it’ll be alright. You’ll be a handsome pair you two.”

“We were reading last night and I kissed him, because he sounded nice, and I said that I liked reading like that and what not and he said… essentially he said that I’m paranoid and that he loved me.”

“He told you he loved you?”

“Aye he did,” Lydia did, the slang that she’d picked up from his family and his mother especially slipping into her own. There’s a sweet kind of look on Claudia’s face and she smiles watery at Lydia. 

“You know… I hope I live to see the day he’s truly happy. I hope you can give that to him because I can’t change anything about our lives- I can’t stop the world from being the way it is, I can’t tell him to leave and leave the estate behind. I can’t… But if he can have anything, at least he can have you.”

Lydia smiles and nods, moving to hug Claudia. “I want you to be happy too- you deserve it, you deserve it all. And one day he’s going to give back the life you gave him,” Lydia whispers and Claudia hugs her, kissing her head.

“Thank you my love. Thank you so much.”

  
  


It was an awful misgiving really, and Brett didn’t know much what to do with the problem on his hands as he sits there in the back of the house, shaking against the stone wall. Boyd walks out and moves to him with a wet towel and supplies from T’any. He tilts Brett’s head and looks confused.

“What on earth happened?” Boyd whispers and Brett hiccups slightly, trying to suck up his tears, a gash tracing down along his neck, a piece of glass stuck near his brow.

“I don’t know- I don’t know. He said that we were supposed to be alone, nobody was supposed to be home- not for another few days but his father- and I… he… I don’t know what happened to him.”

Boyd looks pitiful, shaking his head as he cleans the blood. “We’re going to have to get you a turtle neck, there’s blood just about damn everywhere,” he mumbles. T’any steps out and gasps. 

“Oh my lord, what did you done get yourself into? Was it that boy in the village? I done  _ told  _ you he was trouble, Brett-” She whispers as she shuts the door and makes sure nobody is coming behind her as she moves to kneel beside him. She aids Boyd on how to patch him up, pulling the glass out of his brown and seeing it isn’t in deep, she doesn’t stitch him, though she does tape a bandage on him. 

“We oughta keep the boy oughta sight, people like that Greg man are goin to ask left and right until they get answers and Lord knows if Stiles gets upset with him, it ain’t gon be good,” T’any whispers and Boyd nods. 

“I’ll sneak you up the back through the servants quarters to your room and I’ll tend to Stiles…”

“Please don’t tell him, don’t tell him,  _ please _ ,” Brett begs, sobbing softly his hands shaking. 

“He don beat you good that man- where else he hit you?” 

Brett is too frightened to speak and T’any sighs, not sure what to say to the boy. “Alright, alright, calm down child. Calm down. It's gon be alright.” She brushes his hair back and Boyd continues washing the blood before patching up his neck. 

“Calm on, we oughta get going. Take you upstairs and put you in a bath,” Boyd whispers.

“Put him in my bath, it done be one the biggest ones in the house,” T’any says and Boyd nods, picking the boy up and taking him inside. He strips him down to nothing, leaving him there, curled in on himself as Boyd warms up water for the bath. He’s just standing there heating the bath water in a big kettle for him and Brett just sits there curled in on himself, his pale skin a stark contrast to the yellow ish rug with the redish accents. 

“Everything was going fine. We were just sleeping, God Dammit and I… I thought, you know, Stiles doesn’t have work, he’d want to sleep a bit and what’d it kill if I was home a bit late? We were just gettin up… I din’t know his father would’a been comin home and he never  _ said.  _ God I never seen somebody get beat so bad, I tried my damned hardest to convince him we was just friends but hell, it ought’a’d happened before for his father not to believe us or maybe he just wanted a thought to give on how is son ought’a be. Anybody asks and he’s a damn homosexual. I mean I’m tarnished as it is, with my parents being dead and all but now… I mean I s’pose talk can’t be so bad, nobody cares about a Valet and what a Valet gets up to. But I don’t want them talkin on Stiles, callin him things like that when he’d done nothin wrong.”

“He don’t know your name, do he?” Boyd asks and Brett shrugs.

“Dunno, never gotta ask.”

“Well I doubt he do and I doubt he very interested-”

“Unless he wants to turn me in…”

“On account of what proof, really?”

“I don’t know.”

Brett shrugs in a sad kind of way and Boyd sighs, filling the bath with the warm water and he picks up Brett by the arm, helps him in and he looks so vulnerable and small laying there in the bed- Boyd can’t help but feel bad for him. He really can’t help it when he feels guilty for Brett looking so beat up and god, he thinks that maybe if he’d told him not to leave last night, he ought’a had been okay- but here they were, here Brett was… 

  
  


“Where is Brett?” Stiles asks again and Boyd sighs, ignoring the question. “I’m being really quite serious. You gon tell me why you’re here and he’s not?”

“He’s sick?”

“With what. I oughta get him a doctor-”

“He’s ain’t that sick.”

“Then why isn’t he down here? I want to know.”

“None of your damn business- Brett just wants to be left alone.”

“I got every right to know where my valet is.”

“Do you want me to dress you or are you going to keep whinin like a baby?”

“I’m not  _ whining.  _ I’m demanding and if it bugs you so much, I’ll dress myself. What the hell is wrong with Brett?”

“It ain’t nothin I can tell you. He said not to say anythin to you.”

“And why not?”

“He don thinks he done a bad thing or something like that. He sure as hell don’t want to confront you about it.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s a long story. Listen, I’ll tell you when he wants to talk.”

“Can’t I go see him.”

“He really don’t want that.”

“Why not? I just… is he okay?”

“He’s a lot of thing, sure, but Okay just isn’t one of them.”

Stiles seems startled by this and Boyd feels bad for scaring him. “But he’s gonna be,” Boyd adds. “You should go down to breakfast and see your girl- she said she got plans when I saw her this mornin, she was real happy and all about it too. You’d’a thought she done organized some sort of breakthrough organization or something, you ought’a go see her and see what it’s all about.”

“Plans? Why, I thought she was just going over to see Allison today.”

“Perhaps they’re up to somethin. You should go see her, really,” boyd tells him and Stiles is aware that he’s just trying to distract him and once he’s done dressing he goes downstairs and Lydia really is happier and he smiles because she is. Though he doesn’t even make it half way over to her when Greg whatever-his-last-name-is walks over and starts up a conversation. Stiles’ smile immediately falters into an ingenuine disposition and he just listens to Greg drone on and on and on- he once again wonders how his beloved Aunt Carol could marry this duffus and just smiles through the motions. 

He almost forgets completely about his worry, as he listens to the man drone on mindlessly and he just goes on about it, though the worry knots in his stomach and he can tell there's not much talk going around about it. Some even seem upset that Brett wasn’t there to help. He wonders what happened, where he could possibly be that nobody really seemed to know what was happening with him, and Stiles worried. Lydia notices the worry slowly etch its way onto his features and she wants to ask what’s bothering him but it's the second they part for breakfast that he’s dragged away with the men outside for a smoke and he’s put on his social front, he’s talking and laughing with all these people even if something seems to have worked it’s way inside his head. She wonders what it is, she wonders why he seems so upset, she wanted to pull him aside and ask, but she knew better than to do that. 

 

Brett settles against the pillow, his eyes puffy from crying all morning. He still doesn’t seem entirely composed and he’s tired but he’s aching and covered in bruises, the cut along his neck hurts like hell, the cut by his eye felt no better. He just wants to wither in the bed he’s sat in, never to move again. This had never really happened to him before- he knew it happened but he’d always been lucky. He also had more lovers that were woman than not, often hidden in back rooms or closets or something like that. He should have known better than to trust somebody, especially on the outskirts of town.

Why has it never been mentioned before? Well it was his secret. He had somebody to call his own and he didn’t want to admit to it, admit to being infatuated with somebody, having somebody to call his own. Really he doesn’t know how it went on for this long, he doesn’t know how it got to this point and his heart tugs at the idea that his lover might not be alive any longer- that he might be dead in his own home and his father was the cause of it. He hoped everything was okay- but he knew that it wasn’t. He knew they wouldn’t be speaking again, at least not in the near future. Not in private and not in public. Brett curls up, hugging his knees to his chest and sobbing into them, his heart shattering all over again. 

Leave it up to him to ruin a good thing when he had it. Leave it to him to make such a stupid mistake, to think he could get away with an affair like that for so long- leave it to him  _ fall for the other guy.  _ He hated himself, for staying the night when he shouldn’t have. He ought’a have let up, he shouldn’t have let things get as far as they did, he shouldn’t have let this get the way it did but he did and now… he might never know what happened to him- he might not ever  _ see  _ him again and it’s all his fault. It’s  _ his  _ fault, when he could have left he stayed. He could be dead and it’s because he decided not to come home that night. Brett was wound further into the idea until he couldn’t take it anymore. He was unrecoverable, his damage was done, there wasn’t much to do now but pretend it was okay.

He could hide the cuts, make excuses, where long neck shirts. He didn’t have to think about it after this, but for now he would fall apart and nobody had to know. Nobody had to witness it- except Boyd did. 

He was only bringing the boy something to eat when he heard the obscene sobbing inside and it broke his heart- Brett had always been so nice and such a good friend. He didn’t  _ deserve  _ to be in that much pain, he didn’t deserve to cry like that- like his heart had been ripped out of his chest. Boyd was aware this had gone on for a while, Boyd covered for him. But he didn’t know how far in Brett was, he doesn’t really know what happened to Brett and that other boy at the house, he doesn’t know what’s going to happen now. All he knows is that Brett is broken and he pushes in silently and sits at the edge of the bed, unsure for a moment(because Boyd was never really good with emotions, he was never really open with his feelings) but he leans over and pulls Brett into his arms and let’s him cry there as if he were a child, the other young man falling apart in his arms. Boyd thinks his own heart is breaking.

“It’s gonna be okay.” 

“I-its all my f _ -ault _ .” 

“Ain’t nobody’s fault, he don’t blame you.”

“What if- what if he-” Brett couldn’t say it before he was reduced to a sobbing shaking mess, and Boyd hugs him tighter, letting Brett cry there, let him fall apart. He was allowed to, he’d never been hurt like this (well, besides the loss of his parents, but Boyd didn’t know much about that). Boyd knows though, that Brett is scared, that he’s guilty, that right now he just needs to deteriorate and learn how to put the pieces back together. He lets him. Because that’s what you do. Of course he lets him. 

  
  


“Scott, I’m just saying there are better options,” his father pleads. “There are nicer girls out there. Like, for example, Rosa- she’s a spaniard, she’s beautiful, she’s a  _ catholic.  _ Don’t you want that? A nice Catholic girl that will raise the kids right? You don’t want that Allison girl-”

“But I do! I don’t know what you’re so upset about? Why are you so set against this?”

“Because you could do better! There’s better that you could have!” 

“I don’t  _ want  _ better!”

“She’s trouble!” 

“You wouldn’t know!” 

“Don’t be a child! This is your future I’m looking out for!”

“It’s  _ my  _ future, don’t I have a choice in who I get to spend it with?”

“You do and your choices do not include that argent girl. I  _ know  _ that you don’t like her for the reasons you claim- there’s no reason you would have stayed at her house so often. What were you up to?”

Scott stutters before resigning. “We weren’t up to anything. I just got to know her- I  _ love  _ her, and I plan on marrying her.”

“You will not, not in my house.”

“Rafael!” Melissa calls, roaming in. “We have a guest. A miss Martin?”

“Well let her in.”

She nods and goes to get her into the room.

  
  


Lydia is with Allison, in the Argent Estate now. They were in Allison’s bedroom with a tray of pastries and chocolates. “So you two have been sleeping together?”

“No entirely. It’s all foreplay but he’s an absolute god with his hands.”

“Enticing,” Allison giggles. “Better than Jackson?”

“By so much.”

“I’m glad. Have you started looking for dresses? I know this one seamstress we could get you one at. She makes the most marvelous dresses, I bet you could snag a real stunnin one-”

“Oh that would be wonderful! We should go together.”

“We oughta. Wouldn’t that be a swingin time?” 

“It would be. I think something is going on though, Stiles seemed rather upset all morning, and I don’t really know if he’s recovered from it, he’s gone to see Isaac.”

“Oh?’

“Yeah.”

“Perhaps he’s just in a mood. He gets that way sometimes or at least, he used to when were much younger. He would go from jumping all over the place to very upset in a matter of seconds.” 

“I’ve known him for months now, I don’t think I’ve ever seen him like that- he just was talking one second then seemed very upset about something the next. Perhaps I was just looking too far into it, you think?”

“Perhaps. Scott came over last night.”

“Alone?”

“God no… I feel like I don’t even know him anymore.”

“Don’t say that. It’s all the same.”

“Oh lord it’s really not. It’s as if he’s not the same person anymore. We can’t stand to look at each other. We can’t stand to be near each other.”

“Don’t stress it- perhaps it’s just the presence of his parents. You don’t know much of his home life, do you?”

“No he’d never spoke of it. He returned the necklace I gave him.” 

“Maybe his parents were catching on and he didn’t want them to find it-”

“Perhaps he’s avoiding me? What if he found another girl?”

“I doubt that. I don’t think he could replace you.”

  
  


The affair went that she was just there to say hello to the new neighbors. That she was awfully lonely at home, though at the prospect of her husband and children she turned a bit bitter. “I’d think you already knew.”

“I don’t…” Rafael said. 

“You must. My daughters bastard fiance arrested my husband and turned my own daughter against me. It was all over the news. The whore-”

“She’s not a whore,” Scott cuts in. “She’s a good person, she’s tender at heart, could never hurt a person if she knew how.”

“And you know her?”

“I do. I know her quite well, she’s the best friend of the girl I’m courting.”

“Perhaps we should drop the subject,” Rafael suggests. They do. Though Natalie was still raging, he turned his own daughter against her, he took the only thing she had left- she wasn’t going to let it go. She couldn’t. She refused to do so. 

  
  


Isaac and Stiles stood at the edge of the shore, finding flat rocks and skipping them along the surface of the water like boys, they even looked a bit smaller against the shore as they skipped rocks and stood there, looking out at the lake. 

“All he does is talk- I don’t think I could bear to hear it much more, really. It’s like everybody likes him- and for what? Because he has a dumb thing or two to say? I mean, my Aunt Carol deserves better than that- than this idiot guy.”

“I mean, why don’t you stick it to him? You’re practically a genius, he couldn’t dispute you.”

“That’s the problem, I’m not allowed to dispute him, I’m supposed to let him look good for the family, they all like him anyways so I don’t see the purpose or anything- it’s just like… I don’t know.”

“I see what you mean. I mean… I guess I do…”

“Are you okay?” 

“Yeah… just there was a boy down the street in the house- his father caught him with a male lover and he got beat half to death.”

“Who… who was the lover?”

“He wouldn’t say. I never seen a boy look so bad, it really hit home- i mean he looked real bad. Sure lovin a man is a sin, you shouldn’t do it but I mean, if they do it… I mean… don’t know, it’s wrong. Doin that to your kid is wrong.”

“That kind of prejudice against people is wrong. You don’t know why they feel that way, we don’t know if it’s something god chose for them to have or not. It’s not our  _ decision  _ for that kind of thing… Are you sure he didn’t give you a name? Was the lover hurt?’

“I think he was… why, what happened? Do you think Brett was involved?”

“I don’t know… he never told me he had a steady lover at all but he wasn’t there to dress me this morning and Boyd said he wasn’t feeling good but wouldn’t tell me what happened.” 

“So you think he might be involved?”

“Maybe… I don’t know.”

Stiles picks up a slim rock and with a flick of his wrist, he tosses it to skim the surface of the water, padding along until it fell somewhere in the center. Isaac watches him with a vague interest before shrugging it off- both men were lost in their own stratosphere of thought- though they were together and that mattered. It’d been awhile since they sat like this, just in the others presence. They’d been busy.

“So how are you and Lydia?”

“We’re okay… We’re really swell actually. I don’t think I’d ever felt that way about nobody.”

“Why you say that? Think you love her?”

“I do… I really think that I do.” 

“That’s sweet… I’m thinking about proposing to Elizabeth.”

“Is that so?” Stiles asks, peaking with interest. “So you really hit it off, did you? I  _ knew  _ she’d be good for you.”

“You don’t mind do you? Allison keeps saying that you used to be over the clouds for her.”

“Does she? I think she’s jealous. Normally you give her the attention she lacks when Scott is at home. I don’t care, really I don’t. I wouldn’t’ve told ya to go for her if I did. That’s selfish and who am I to tell ya you can’t have her when I’m marryin another girl?”

“I suppose your right. I don’t know how to go about it though, i don’t know what to say to her or do… What if I forget everything I want to say? I’m nervous, really I am.”

“I understand. I get it, I was nervous as a sleepless man when I proposed to Lydia but see… it’s just a matter of telling her how you feel and she’ll really go over for ya or something like that. It’s simple really, just have the sentiment in mind- and you don’t have to do like some big ceremony. Pull her aside and just do it. Maybe even be a little shy- she’d take you for a real sweetheart.”

Isaac laughs and nods. “I’ll take your word for it.”

“Good. And don’t get married when I’m not here. Get married like in a year or something, that way I can be there for you.”

“Elizabeth wouldn’t dare have a weddin without you there- she says she values our friendship or somethin like that.”

“Sounds like Beth, to be quite honest.”

Isaac laughs. “It does… she’s a nice girl.”

“She’s sweet as peaches, really she is. I think any guy in his right mind would like a girl like her but I think I’m quite taken by Lydia… she’s different. We fit. She’s not just this nice girl who’s really prettier. She’s more than that… we work out. We balance. It’s a good match.”

“Better than you thought huh? Perhaps it was faith, perhaps God meant for you two to be together?”

“I hope so and I hope that in any other world, I get to be with her too because she’s the kind of a girl that I would want to give my attention to.” 

“That’s real sweet. I bet she’s all yours in every world to ever be. You think that’s real? Other worlds in the universe or something?”

“I mean… I wouldn’t know but maybe there is, other worlds where you and I exist and maybe we hate each other.”

“Maybe. I kind of hate you here but you’re not so bad.”

Isaac shoulders him slightly and Stiles grins, shoulder the taller man back. “I can live with that, I kind of hate you too, Isaac.”

“Good.”

“Good… Good, Good, Good.” 

“Goody good.”

“Wasn’t that how they used to say Madame or M’lady or something?”

“Yeah the puritans or something. Real stupid sounding.”

“It is… who would say ‘goody’ in regards to a woman’s name? Were men ‘Good’?”

“The more you say it the less it sounds like a word. Goody, good, good, goody… it sounds ridiculous.”

“You’re right, it does. It’s strange sounding. We should stop saying it, I think it makes a horrid kind of noise now that I think of it. It’s fatty.”

“Fatty?”

“Yeah, it sounds fatty. Not like the good kind, but like you’re chewing cow fat.”

“Who does that?”

“I dunno, people who leave the fat on the meat.”

“That’s nasty.”

Stiles laughs. “Yeah it’s not great. My gram likes it so when she’s over we gotta eat the fat on the meat, it’s putrid. I avoid it like the plague.”

“Lord, I would too if I was forced to eat cow fat.” 

“Yeah well…” Stiles shrugs and goes to sit down on a large rock and Isaac follows to sit beside him. They sit there leaned against the rocks and it’s like they’re young boys again- sweet and only fifteen. Fifteen… fifteen was a good year. Stiles recalls fifteen vividly, it was the end of his youth, it’s where his innocence lasted. He remembered going out by the river a lot and skipping across it on the rocks. He recalls hiding in bushes and climbing trees- he recalls so much about being fifteen. Fifteen was a good year, he had liked being fifteen. Sitting here with Isaac… he felt fifteen, it was good to be fifteen again. It was a good feeling. 

  
  



	35. Chapter 31

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> wild . mp3  
> take me to church . mp3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If I wasn't so tired I would link you all to this amazing picture of an owl that looks drunk but I'm exhausted

It all started on a brisk October day, the apricity of the day was slightly jarring, considering the wind was so cold and it was sometime after Stiles had proposed to Lydia. He was just walking to the village to mail a letter to his sister when he bumped into him. Brett recalls thinking the young man was very beautiful, he was about a year younger than him and he had taken a real good liking to him. He’d dropped something the young man was holding and he instantly helped him to pick it up, they instantly hit it off. They were talking and laughing and Brett recalled really liking him.

Brett asked if they could meet up one day, just as friends, because he liked talking to him and the other instantly agreed. There was a traction between them and it was like a magnet pulling between the two of them. Brett promised himself it wouldn’t turn out in anyway though. He said that if anything happened between them, there’d be no feelings attached. They would see each other frequently- him and Stephan- between lunches and late nights long after Stiles had gone to bed. They would be wound up in each other, talking and caressing and curled up in each other like there wasn’t another place to be. Brett refused to believe that it could ever end, not when he felt so ethereal in his arms. 

He recalls the first time they were truly alone together, they were in a hotel room in the local hotel, it was at least 2 am and they were smoking cigars and drinking something alcoholic (Brett couldn’t remember and he’s glad that he can’t) when Stephen had kissed him lightly and Brett leaned up to meet him, adjusting in the chair, before the other was in his lap. It was innocent, it was sheltered, they were just kissing- they were just touching, there were hands in hair, hands roaming over clothes, hands on necks and cheeks feeling soft skin and rough skin and all the hairs in between. They were slightly drunk and yet they were so content. They kissed until they were drunk on the others taste, they kissed until they couldn’t kiss anymore because their lips hurt, they kissed until they couldn’t breathe, they kissed for hours- literally hours, and Brett never thought that somebody could bruise their lips but he swore they were just slightly purple from kissing so much and God Dammit, he’d never felt so high in his life- the whole world was swaying, everything felt light as the air and he never wanted to get down from the place he was up on. That was the first time he noticed what Steven did for him- he pushed that feeling deep down under _. This wasn’t meant to be love _ , he told himself.  _ It wasn’t meant to be at all. _

Brett recalls the next time this happens, in the same room, around the same time. Except this time, they’re kissing and they become undressed. And now it’s more than kissing, it’s a venture to get to know the other physically. They find every scar and trace it with tongues, with fingers, with soft caress of the tips of noses. Stephen finds out that Brett likes to bite on his collar and he lets it happen. They talk about how they got their scars, Brett counts aloud every freckle, and tells him how they look like stars, he even connects them with his fingers and tells him how they look like the pictures of the stars in Stiles books. He couldn’t read well but Brett could at least correlate pictures. 

They talk about their upbringings, they kiss until their drunks- their hands wandered but they never crossed their boundaries, and soon they were just kissing naked. Soon Brett was warped in this man, tilted to the side, holding the side of his head tenderly- and he thinks that he could kiss him for the rest of his life. He thinks that he likes being kissed. He discards the thought as soon as it comes- Love like this wasn’t meant to be and Valets never got married, he was a servant to a household, it wasn’t his job to love and to live and to lead a life of his own. Though he could never shake that feeling of Stephens hands around him as they kissed bare under the bed’s sheets. 

It was that morning that Brett had returned and Boyd had chastised him for being late and that Stiles had rang his bell five minutes ago. Brett wasn’t even dressed properly. He adjusts himself before running upstairs. It was after that Boyd gets him in private.

“Where were you?”

“I was out…”

“I understand that. What were you doing? Why are you home this late?”

Brett had bit his lip and he leaned in. “You have to promise to keep this a secret, nobody else can know but I met a really wonderful boy and we had a really wonderful time and  _ nothing happened _ , I swear, I’m clean. Just… we had such a wonderful time and we fell asleep together in the hotel and I could bid to part from him while he was sleepin and all- I just couldn’t-”

Boyd had sighed and waved him off. “I understand but don’t expect me to cover for you too often. People will get suspicious and you know how John gets,” Boyd whispers, Brett beaming practically and he laughed how grateful Brett seemed. The boy had seemed overwhelmed with joy and he wonders how long this had to be happening for him to seem so happy- Though it hadn’t been happening long and Brett would deny seeming so happy, it’s the last thing he would want: to seem overtly overjoyed by something that shouldn’t overjoy him at all; it was just an affair, that’s all. There wasn’t anything to be overjoyed about- Brett had convinced himself of that.

Though it would happen once or twice a week and Brett would sneak in before the sun came up and would be dressed and down for breakfast as if it never happened. They would hide in the hotel or they would hide in the small open cots that were in the barn at his home. They developed something more sentimental than just a few minutes of a good time- they would talk for hours, talk about all sorts of things: Running away, never going home, living in a cottage in the woods where nobody could bother them, making a living of their own. They would talk about escaping west, they’d talk about traveling all over- they’d paint vivid pictures of lives outside of their own. Where Brett was never working on others and where Stephen wasn’t slave to his own family. And they always got lost in it, always got lost in talking together, in holding each other. 

There were few times where anybody suspected them, at all. There was once that Brett could recall the two of them caught in a fit of passion, half dressed when they heard the Barn doors wind open before creaking to a close and Brett barely made it into a hiding spot- where he’d be mostly unseen- when the door to the cot was open and his father was estranged by the sight of his son on the floor, half dressed and panting. He recalls the event ensuing with something of a hilarity; Stephen claiming to have been ‘fitting up’ or working out, and that he was in the middle of a very serious, very exhausting regiment and really he was quite hot. His father didn’t seem to buy it for a moment but Stephen offered his father join him and he even started doing some curl ups just to show- the man seemed deterred by the physical aspect of the activity and bid him goodnight. Once they could stop holding their breaths, the boys burst into dulcet laughter- curling into each other as they laughed for minutes on end, barely able to breathe. Brett recalls Stephen saying something about laughing to death and how they may never breathe again from laughing so hard.  _ What a sight that would have been _ . 

There was another time where it was the midst of day and since Stiles was out on a hunting party further out west with a group of his friends, Brett had some free time on his hands, so he had gone to see Stephen and his mother allowed them some time alone, thought it was when his father had come in and they were holding hands that Brett had really put on a show (one could say that he’s learned a thing or two from Stiles about lying and making something out to be something it’s not). He started pretending to be reading palms and explaining the way that the ladies in New York would do it and when his father asked how he knew Brett went into a whole thing.

“I worked in New York for this family for quite some time and one day we went down to the rockland shore, the family and the staff and it was real rowdy time. Me and Daisy, this charming maid that I knew that was about my age, we were walkin around on the board and there was this woman with a real crazy stand and Stephen just wanted to know all about it because we were talkin about the bible and magic and all that- he says it’s not real but I’d seen it with my own eyes! She really knew what she was talkin about, said how I’d luck out on the job and I did- well it wasn’t really my fault they just thought that it wasn’t very good lookin that a very poor boy like me from a very poor background just didn’t look good in the house.That’s when I headed to Massachusetts but I passed by the board first-” and he strung out the whole story until the man couldn’t stand to hear him talk. 

“Is it true?” Stephen had asked him and Brett shrugged. 

“Some of it was, sure.”

Though beyond that they had been pretty safe. See Brett was the real catty kind of person who really knew how to keep a secret when it came to one. Nobody would ever suspect him and he was quite the admirer of women, he thought they were lovely to be around and when you charmed one, they just simply fell over giggling with their cheeks all pink- he had even invested interest in some of them: he was a good 50% on both ends of the spectrum, his attraction for both was inevitable. Some called it ‘bisexuality’ and related it to symptoms of gender inversion, though Brett never felt any less of a man and any more of a woman (whatever that really was supposed to mean,  _ he  _ didn’t know, he just read it somewhere- in a magazine or something), it regarded him that he was quite normal, he just liked kissing boys and he just liked kissing boys. To him it didn’t really mean anything and he portrayed it well.

Though it did bite him in the neck time to time. He would have this substantial doubt of who he was, if what he going at was okay, if perhaps these were signs of the devil that deviated him from the regular man- that his desires were unearthly and beyond him. None of this had to do with Stephen but Stephen had been voicing the same concerns to him and Brett told him that it was all really a matter of pomp and circumstance, how the mind perceived the fault of the human code, and really it wasn’t his fault- it wasn’t anybodies fault. He was simply taken by the means of a man the same way he was a woman- though Stephen took the means of men totally and never seemed quite interested in women. Brett understood. He didn’t care, neither did Stephen. 

It was a happy relationship, they were mutually accepted in a place that was never so accepting. What really became of it was that they were happy. It was only about two or three months really, but they fell in this cycle of being happy together. Of exploring the other, of having somebody to confide in. Brett liked that- he liked that a lot more than anything he had ever had with any woman. (he found a woman was good in body but being with Stephen placed something that he couldn’t quite name, he was once again doubting his advancements and whether or not this was deviation from holiness. He doubted if he really was true to himself or if perhaps he was just fooling himself the entire time, he never really knew, he still doesn’t and doesn’t think he ever will. Not truly.) 

It wasn’t until that very morning that he and Stephen were in any trouble at all… it wasn’t supposed to end that way and he doesn’t know what happened to him, he doesn’t know where it all went wrong, he barely remembers what happens.

“He’s okay… Isaac took care of him, he’s okay,” Stiles tells him when Brett’s finished, it was dark out now, there were snow cloud piling in on the night and the moon was vanished from sight. Brett seems interested and Stiles hesitates. “I don’t think they’re together now. But I know he went to Isaac… they don’t know why his father came back but Isaac said that he suspects somebody had told his father or something.”

“Oh…” Brett nods. “I… I don’t know what to do at this point. It was all going so well, I was a fool to think it’d work.”

“It’s not your fault… It’s not his either. It… the world works in strange ways. His father doesn’t understand it and-”

“Do you understand it?”

“I don’t know… but it doesn’t make me see you any different. There’s no reason I should, I know very well you were interested in men- I never treated you different.”

“Well…”

“Not  _ really.  _ I care about you, and you know, I’ll never get it, I don’t know what you… feel, I s’pose, but that don’t mean… it don’t make you any different.”

“But it  _ does.  _ It changes things- you know that, we both know that. I’m not the same as you and-”

“But you are,  I don’t care who you’re in bed with.”

“You don’t but everybody else on earth does.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“It was a secret. I didn’t want anybody to know.” 

“I understand.”

“And you have other things-”

“That’s not any reason that you couldn’t tell me. I’m never too caught up for you-”

“It’s different.”

They were quiet for a bit and Brett seems sadder than Stiles could ever remember seeing him. He had this fallen expression and the only thing that lit was the oil lamp on the wall that glew in the darkness. Stiles can’t remember him seeing so dark, nor can he remember seeming so down, so upset and he thinks that they’re the same, they both had that in common: nobody ever knew how broken they truly were, how everything that constricted in their eventually collapsed and they were downed by the liquor glass- long gone before they could heal, there wasn’t time to heal. Harden and move on. It was all really such an act and Stiles feels sorry for Brett, because nobody should have to suffer their losses so quietly, not the way that he did and he felt that his suffering was unfair, this shouldn’t be this way. 

“You deserve better,” he finally concludes.

“What?”

“You deserve better. You don’t deserve to suffer in silence.”

“I… don’t really know what to say to that. Thank you?”

“I just… I don’t know. I wish you didn’t have to- I just-” Stiles sighs. “I don’t really know what I’m trying to say.”

“I guess it’s hard for you, to understand and what not.”

“I’m not totally incompetent. And I suppose it’s not always sweet as peaches but… I don’t know, why did you feel like you couldn’t tell me?”

“I couldn’t really tell you.”

Stiles nods and Brett moves to lean against his shoulder, his cheek pressed to the warm, flimsy pajama shirt that he wore, hugging his arm slightly. “It’s not that I don’t trust you or anything… I just didn’t want you to worry. You seemed so happy.”

“Which is sweet but I thought something had happened to you. I was more worried not knowing if you were even in the house than I would have been knowing you were mostly fine. And so you’ve got a few scars, that’s not so bad. Nothing T’any can’t heal,” Stiles teases and brett laughs.

“Tell me about it. She’s rubbed that ointment stuff she makes on my wounds about a hundred times today and it hurts like hell. Let me tell you, it’s  _ painful. _ God, it burns like somebody stuck coals in your wound.”

“I know, it's been done to me before. She did it to Lydia and the poor girl was whimpering and unspoken to until that stuff wore off.”

“Honestly, I was going to cry, but I didn’t have many tears left.”

Stlies softens and moves a hand through Brett’s unruly hair. “You’ll be alright. You just have to pick the pieces up and make sure they’re stuck in a big stronger than before.”

“I guess you would know, you’re pace is relentless and you’re unbreakable. I don’t think anybody could challenge you without seeing their oncoming death- you just  _ know  _ what to do all the time, know how to be powerful and strong… I don’t know how to do that. I feel too much.”

“And perhaps that makes you better. I hurt more than I let on,” Stiles whispers and Brett looks up at him. “I just know how to hide it… and I don’t think that's a very good thing.”

  
  


Isaac watched as Stephen picked at his food, unappetized. “So… who was he?”

“I’d rather not say- he has a reputation to hold up, more than I do anyways. It’s best kept private.”

“Do I know him?”

“You might.” 

“Oh… Was it bad?”

“Bad don’t even begin to describe it, never seen him that angry and… it was just a bad situation.”

“Well you shouldn’t be sleepin around with men, you’d be better off without it.”

“But I’ve hidden it so well. I don’t know who told him.”

“Maybe one of the slaves or towns people. Maybe somebody passed by and saw you with him in the house.”

“Maybe…”

“You don’t deserve it though.”

“I loved him… I can’t speak to him no more though, he gon get us both killed.”

“I’m sure he’s a bit weary if it’s as bad as you say.”

“I hope so… at least for awhile.”

  
  


The spectrum of events that evening was something Theo remembered vividly, the recollection of the memory was truly beyond him and why now he didn’t know. Though, it was a kankedort of events really and he doesn’t recall entirely how it came to be. Well he doesn’t know how that night came to be, he did know how the rest came to be and if it really must be told, it must be told from the very beginning. The very beginning was when he was at Church the sunday morning before school started, he was sat a few pews in front of him and he didn’t recall seeing him until they were leaving, he was already talking to people and he never even suspected the boy to be virginian until they entered their dorms and there he was, full on with a slight New Orleans accent that mixed with a Virginian one. He was sweet (as peaches, as he would say) and really, it wasn’t Theo’s fault when his heart fluttered- nobody on earth was allowed to be that beautiful. His eyes were like whiskey and his hair was dark, his smile was warm and glowing- it cursed him with dipsomania: his liquor addiction being the brown eyes that lit like flames in the light of day. 

He found that Stiles was intelligent and he liked to spew theories about law while drinking- he’d just down cup after cup and the more drunk he got, the smarter he sounded and really Theo couldn’t explain how that worked but with Stiles, it worked. He just sounded overtly intelligent and smart. He could recall several of these theoretical conversations- all the what ifs and how do’s on the theory of law and the practicality of it. Royalties and Legalities alike, Stiles understood them deeply. 

“The real question lies in where the right of it all lies, how is somebody born on soil here considered property and then further not considered a citizen? It really makes no sense to me-” he had been saying once and Theo went to defend slavery but the more Stiles talked about abolition and the rights of all black men, the more he felt foolish. The way Stiles  _ presented  _ equality was intellectual not violent or nonsensical like many others did. Though the deeper he went into it, the more Theo found that this kind of talk was the kind he kept in small factors, that he didn’t present his opinion widely in fear of disapproval by the society that surrounded him. Theo understood, they came from the same world- they were both rich young boys looking for some sort of freedom from the aristocratic way of life and he understood the power of an opinion and how quickly one could ruin somebody's entire standing- take them from somebody to nobody in a matter of seconds, even. 

Theo found that he couldn’t quite recognize the feeling Stiles gave him. They had an intimate relationship of sorts- and some might have called it a dalliance if they didn’t know any better (and God Theo wasn’t that lucky, he had wished it so many times but Stiles would never be one to press boundaries that far, no matter what he felt- if he felt that kind of thing and Theo doubted he did, he really did)- where they were close, they could drink and talk and do homework together and even lay around their beds together comfortably. They were very good friends and Stiles had even admitted to never having such a close friend before in his life, that most of his friends were temporary sort of friends that only lasted the nights of parties and then they didn’t speak until the next. Theo would admit something like that must be hard to admit, considering he seemed so popular but Stiles didn’t tend to think of most of them as friends, not  _ really _ .

Theo prided that Stiles found him a friend, it made him feel like he was worth something after all- it gave him a sense of  _ hope.  _ Though he doubted the words that might have just been said to boost his own confidence or said out of a momentary insecurity because it seemed no matter where they went together, Stiles had something to say to someone. He talked with anybody, and he could talk about anything. It was admirable. It was the apricity of a november day while they were walking towards a bakery to meet up with some friends that Theo realized the blooming of his feelings- he could push it down no longer and although he had always known he had a taste for men, it never occurred to him to overtake him so prominently- he was just a young man. He was always told that this was wrong and it was sinful and dirty and unholy for men to love other men. That was his fault, he felt cold in the turn that he loved Stiles because it was dirty and sinful and  _ wrong.  _ He wasn’t supposed to love Stiles and he was determined to deny it to the grave. This caused a slight rift between them as Theo pushed him away slightly.

The spring they were sixteen, Theo and Stiles parted- Stiles to go home and Theo to visit some friends in Ohio. Stiles returned and Theo saw that he wasn’t the same. He became more quiet and much more reserved. He had this… way about him that wasn’t like him at all. There was a cold steel in his eyes and he focused more on studying than anything else. Theo wondered if it was because of his harsher treatment towards the male before their break, upon this query, Stiles seemed confused as if he didn’t recall (and all Theo could see was a genuine confusion) before telling Theo that he just had to focus more on his studies. Theo had never known what happened, up until their talk in the library of course where Stiles had told him about the affair with Miss Malia Tate. Theo thought it to be a rift between him and his parents but he never vocalized this.

He thought all hope was lost until an April evening where Stiles asked him to go to a party with him. “It’s just about the way and all our friends are going to be there-” all of  _ his  _ friends, anyways. “It’ll be fun, and we haven’t had fun in a while. I think it’d be a nice change of pace,” Stiles comments, pulling on a slim, almost tight kind of suit coat and he buttons the cuffs with golden cufflinks, and Theo dresses rather quickly. He recalls wearing one of his nicest suits and he also remembers Stiles smoothing down the lapels for him. 

“An old friend of mine is going to be there, I want to make sure we look rather sharp,” he comments and Theo thought it might be a lie, that it was just a cover up for such a forward expression but he doesn’t see anything in his eyes that weren’t there before- he thinks the attempts are innocent, he wonders if perhaps he sees through him. Theo couldn’t tell for sure, he couldn’t tell anything at all not with the sudden closed off way he was acting- though Stiles pulls through with a smile and for a second it looks genuine but Theo can see that it was just a flash of assurance, it was a posing moment to the public census, they weren’t anymore friends than Theo was the public. He felt betrayed, though it wasn’t another moment that Stiles was dragging him out by the wrist to the party. 

There were glass lanterns that glew with colors and there were streamers everywhere. Fountains worths of desserts and liquors and melted chocolates and cheeses. When Stiles said ‘right about the way’ he never thought he meant the stature of a mansion that was a 15 minute cab ride up, though nobody really knew who it belonged to it didn’t surprise Theo that Stiles did. The carriage pulled in and there were people carting in by the carriage-full. Stiles tugged Theo up familiar granite stairs up to a grand, large wooden doorway, adorned with gold edgings and they enter the most extravagant party Theo had ever been to. Stiles pulls him along inside all the way to a large foyer like room somewhere deep inside the castle like house. 

“Dimitri!” He calls and the man, who was nowhere near as handsome as stiles was with a round face and dull hazel looking eyes with greasy, slicked back hair, turns around and Theo realizes he’s young but he’s never seen him before, not at school and not around town.

“Stiles! You know I was just down south! What have you been doing up here old chap?” He had a heavy British accent and it wasn’t long he pulled Stiles into a tight embrace. 

“I’m attending my second year of harvard and I’m taking some accelerated courses over the summer. What were you doing down south?”

“Well I’d hope to catch wind of you but all seemed quiet. I did get wind of that lovely young woman you’re awfully close to- what’d be her name again? Allison? She’s quite the angel.”

“More like the devil but whatever you say,” Stiles had teased and it wasn’t long before he was long carted away and Theo was left to mingle on his own amongst the high top British dukes and marquises and lords and all the fancy Northern folk that were at the party.  It wasn’t until they went home that Theo really saw Stiles again and he was in a lighter mood- perhaps drunk- and Theo sat on the floor with him, drunk as he ever was, talking in susurrous slurs, leaning in awfully close, almost nose to nose as they spoke in hushed voices. Stiles seemed amused, whispering in the same amused voice, talking endlessly about whatever came to mind and Theo couldn’t help it when Stiles had tilted his head to fix his hair flopped against his forehead that he places his hand against his cheek and leans in to kiss him. 

He remembers Stiles tensing beneath him, that he never really kissed back but he let Theo kiss him and when he pulled away Stiles had stood up and moved to his bed. 

“I… I don’t know why I did that… I’m sorry.”

“Listen, I don’t if I lead you on or something but you were wrong, I don’t… We should forget this. It  _ never _ happened,” he said with cool dyspathy and Theo felt his heart break and he felt it break all over again now as he lay in Josh’s arms, suddenly aware of wet lips kissing along his shoulder drunkenly, the memory fading and he feels abused almost- it wasn’t what he wanted, he didn’t want this. 

“Josh… Josh i have to go,” Theo said, tears stinging his eyes and his voice was congested and quiet, Josh looks up.

“What’s the matter with ya?”

“Nothin, I just… I just remembered somethin awfully terrible and I… listen I just gotta go, a’right?”

“But it’s been  _ a week.  _ What have you been up to? What’s goin on?” He grabs the whiskey bottles, pours a glass and downs the liquid down easy.

“Listen, I said I gotta go, Josh. There’s nothin to be up to, I’ve just been busy and really- I can’t do this right now. I can’t.”

“And why not?”

The words  _ it's wrong  _ caught in his throat and he didn’t know what to do, he didn’t know how to answer without burning down all his bridges. Theo feels all his words catch in his throat and he throws the covers off and moves to pull his undershirt on before tugging his button up over his bulky arms and he does the buttons up. Josh is still drinking behind him, unamused with Theo. 

“Theo what is this about? The hell are you on about?”

“Nothin, I just… I really… I gotta go. I ought’a be home, my mother's gonna worry.”

“It’s barely even eleven o’clock. What do you mean she’s gonna worry?  _ Theo _ -”

“Stiles-! I… Oh  _ shit. _ ”

“ _ What _ ?”

“Oh… no no no, you don’t- I didn’t mean to-”

“Who’s  **Stiles** ?”

“Nobody, my friend and he’s recently been quite injured and I just felt awfully horrible sitting here in a bed enjoying myself when he’s awfully injured. You understand? It’s  _ nothing.  _ Josh-”

“I think you’re right, you ought’a go.” Josh said, more bitter than hurt and Theo cursed himself for saying it. He cursed himself for lying. “I… are you sure you’re okay?”

“It just feels wrong.”

“Me or being here while he’s injured? Because in which case, you’re not doing anything wrong… It’s not your fault he’s hurt, Theo.”

“Josh I think you’re really wonderful, really but you’re drunk as hell- I don’t think-”

“Is it me?” he repeats, stumbling over his words.

“It’s not anybody. Go to bed Josh. Forget this happened.”

“What’re you talking about?”

“I’ll write you.”

“You’ll-”

“ _ Josh _ I said I’ll write. I’m awfully preoccupied lately. Go to bed, really go to bed,” Theo insists, practically pleading, pushing him back in the house and trying to usher him to bed but Josh isn’t having it.

“What is goin on with you! You’re acting  _ mad!  _ Have you completely lost your damn mind? Have you gone absolooly crazy?”

“Josh! Shut your damn mouth and go to bed, you’re drunk. A’right? Just go to bed. You don’t know what you’re saying.”

“So what I’m drunt? You’re on about somethin! What is it? God dammit!” Josh whisps around and Theo steps back, flinching slightly.

“Nothin, just go to bed. Jeezus, why are you all up on my case tonight? I’m just-”

“Are you seein somebody else? What’s the matter with ya?”

“Well you say it as if this was meant to last.”

“And it’s not?”

“No. I gotta get married and you know that- I gotta provide heirs to the line, you  _ know  _ that, god dammit, you know it- knew it! I dunno. And I gotta propose to a girl soon, this isn’t meant to last- we’re not permanent- we’re barely sticking. Okay?” 

“So you’re leavin? I could get you arrested!”

“With what proof?” Theo spat, anger and fear boiling in his blood. “We  _ both  _ know I have ground over you. Best keep your mouth shut.” Theo moved to grab the letters he wrote Josh previously from his desk, a paranoia and a fear shot through his blood, knowing full well that Josh could completely ruin him- he denies letting him have that advantage over him. Josh Diaz would  _ not  _ be his demise. 

“You’re a son of a bitch! Hey what are you doin- stop what are you-?” Josh moved to grab Theo’s letters from him, grasping at his arm before Theo tossed them precariously in the fire but Theo pushes him off, striding ahead of him and throwing the letters into the dwindling embers of the heart, sparking an entirely new flame and the paper burns, diminishing any proof the whole affair had ever happened. 

“I don’t know what you thought was happening, or what you thought I felt but you were  _ wrong  _ and this whole thing, as far as either of us are concerned, never happened.” 

Josh stood there watching him with wide, hazy eyes and he was bound to barely remember it happened in the morning. “So you’re leavin for good?” he almost sounds upset. Theo wants to yell at him because the bastard was just threatening him, he was  _ not  _ upset. Not in the slightest, not to Theo but maybe he was just angry- Theo couldn’t be certain, it was all kind of like a fog had come through on his thoughts; he couldn’t think or process anything that was happening.

“I told you,  _ it never happened.  _ It’s over, Josh.”

“I-I didn’t mean it about tellin on ya, I didn’t, I’d never do that- Theo-”

“Josh, I can’t,” he whispers, trying to push Josh away as he grasped hopelessly at his arm. 

“Theo,  _ please _ .” 

“I have to go, Josh.”

“I- I… You can’t.”

Theo doesn’t give it a second thought, he pushes Josh away and then shuts the door behind him, letting it slam just for emphasis. He doesn’t bother to stop for a cabby home, he just walks in the shallow darkness up the dirt road to his home. He feels the bitter tears that were previously caught in his throat represent themselves and he bites his lip, trying to fight it all back. This shouldn’t hurt at all- it’s not like he actually cared or anything. He knew all good things came to an end but he couldn’t decipher if Josh was ever a good thing or just a device to his use. Theo thinks that if anything- all things come to an end, whether or not they did you any good. He doesn’t think Josh did him any good, he feels more washed and worn than he does anything else but it still tears at him inside- his heart still clenches. He was unforgivingly cruel but that’s what his parents taught him. ‘ _ Sometimes you had to bite with venom to save yourself, Theo’  _ and Theo was really only saving himself- it meant nothing. It never happened. 


	36. Chapter 32

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> no one else.mp3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you notice, yesterday I dedicated this story to "My best friend Dina" and I honestly felt like it's so important that this story is dedicated to her. She stands by me no matter what, she is so kind and so sweet- she's the one person I know that I can always turn to and I'll never lose. She makes me so proud- I remember when she started drawing a few years ago and thought she'd never get any better. And I swear I look at her work now and I think /wow/ look at what you've done, look at how far you've gotten. And she does the same with me, I could tell you she's read so much of my work since when I started writing at 11. Just a couple weeks ago she walks into my house and I had my head phones in, I'm sitting on my desktop in my room and I'm typing and she wraps her arms around me and I was about to close the tab and she stops me and goes "no keep writing, finish your chapter." it took me that whole night but everytime I went to a different tab, everytime we talked for too long she'd stop me and go "no keep writing" or "no go back I was reading" and there were points where she would beam and just go "that's gonna KILL them (my readers)" and she would just sit there listening to me sing show tunes while typing. She would be talking about her k-pop boys and she'd be reading my things and listening to me sing. She's always been there for me, she knows me better than anybody. She's my pride and joy- we've known each other so long we tell people that "We're basically married if that's what you want to know". And it never mattered how far we always lived from each other- we're never truly too far apart. It's the idea that God gave us all a soulmate and that she's mine. I love her and I love how far she's gotten, as a person and as an artist and this story is hers as much as it is mine because I would not be here without her- the girl who told me to write and never stop

Lydia twirled in the medieval style dress before standing to stare at herself in the mirror- she thinks that she looks ridiculous in the very obvious corset in the front with the giant flow down sleeves and the weird foldings of the dress that are flimsy and unsupported by a hoop but aren’t straight and proper like non hoop dresses were- she thought it was the uggliest dress she’d ever worn and certainly cheap on the expenses because these were not like the dresses in the paintings.

“I hate it,” she concludes and Allison laughs aloud as the seamstress frowns a little.

“Try another,” Allison encourages, pulling up another dress that she’d chosen for Lydia. It was white of course, a straight non-hoop with a fluffy v-neck and puffed sleeves that had lace about the stretchable cuffs. It was cute but when she put it on she didn’t seem to feel much for it- sure she looked nice and all but it wasn’t… well it wasn’t her wedding dress. “What do you think?”

“It’s pretty… But Claudia said that when you put on a wedding dress and look at yourself, you just  _ know  _ it’s what you’re getting married in. This… this just isn’t it.”

The next one was handed to her as she undressed behind the fold out, a large, transparent material that was layered and poofed with a silky top that had a sweetheart neckline, and an embroidered transparent material that covered the arms and neck. She beamed at thesight of the dress because it was beautiful and once she put it on she thought that  _ she  _ looked beautiful. It made her eyes water just slightly and she felt like a princess in it, but it wasn’t until Allison came out with another dress that she was convinced she had to try it on. 

That dress was the one, she knew the minute she put it on. She bought it, her next fitting would be in the next two weeks. 

 

(start playing the .mp3 here!!! READ THIS SCENE TO THE SONG LINKED:  [ https://youtu.be/vVXeil3mQ_Q?t=24s ](https://youtu.be/vVXeil3mQ_Q?t=24s)  ) 

 

Lydia went to Stiles office where he was working, Stoker beside him as they worked something out, though the man stood to leave when she entered, the door creaking.

“Oh you don’t have to leave if you’re busy- I was just coming to check up on you two,” Lydia cooes as she clutches her pinkish clutch person but bram waves her off. 

“You two have time alone, I’ll make tea upstairs for when you’re ready.”

“Yes of course,” she nods, placing her hand along his bicep as he hobbles past her against his cane, Stiles standing and Lydia shuts the door behind her, approaching her fiance and kissing him softly, Stiles holding her waist as they kissed and she smiles as they pulled away from each other. “I got the most beautiful, stunning, outrageously gorgeous wedding gown.”

“Well when you say  _ that  _ I’m lead to believe that it’s actually very ugly and since you’re wearing it, I don’t imagine it does the dress anymore justice,” he teases and she huffs.

“You’re an impossible man, did you know that?”

“I’m quite aware,” he mumbles, smiling softly and she smiles back up at him, still in his arms.

“How’s Stoker doing since Christmas?”

“Well he’s not been very well, sorry to say. He’s much more melancholy and I can only imagine… it feels like everybody is heartbroken, you know? Nobody knows what to do with themselves anymore.”

“Well… things will heal in time, it’s just the way the tides are turning.”

“I suppose… and besides we’ve got almost a year to ourselves.”

“And I imagine you’ve planned it all out?” she whispers, her knuckles ghosting over the skin of his neck gently, caressing the soft skin. 

“Something like that…”

She giggles softly and Stiles kisses the corner of her mouth gently, nose pressed to the freckles on her cheek. She smells a lot like strawberry and rose perfume, her hair ghosting over the side of his face and he kisses her nose lightly, her hands holding his arms as they sway slightly.

“Dance with me,” she invites.

“In here?”

She nods her head eagerly and he laughs softly, one hand placed on her hip and the other along her arm as she adjusts her hand on his arm so they can dance, they both glance down for a second before they’re moving to waltz along in the open space of the office between the two book shelves, and she’s giggling happily as she moves alongside him, following his lead through the space as he twirls her and dances with her. They part momentarily before they come back wrist to wrist as he twirls and their movements are quick and light and he lifts her to twirl her and she bursts into giggles, landing to hold his arm and twirling naturally as they dance, the two swaying momentarily in a waltz.  They’re laughing, falling forehead to forehead as their waltz falls into a slow sway, Lydia feels like she’s floating as she sways beside him, their lips meeting momentarily after and they almost halt to a complete stop. 

Stiles parts from her and she smiles, holding him close and his eyes are bright as they meet hers, and they melt into dulcet smiles as he continues a slow waltz with her about the room. It’s just them and nobody else, she thinks that she could never be this happy again- the air of the room is intoxicated with the love she feels for him, the way her heart flutters just slightly every time he twirls her and she ends up forehead to forehead with him. She thinks how foolish it is to feel like this, and how unnerving it was to be this intimately close to him in a way she had never experienced. She doesn’t know if it’s the way his eyes light up or his small puffs of warm breath, she’s not sure if it’s just how close he is to her and how in love he seems (he’s so in love, it’s  _ terrifying _ ) but whatever it was, it was making her feel faint, she felt like air- she was just drifting with him in his arms.

They’re both terrified of breaking the silence as they danced to nothing, nothing but their mere heartbeats and it’s all tractions, it’s nothing more than a pull between two. They were just moving, they were just twirling and dancing and they never wanted to stop. Then in a breath between two, a silent gasp, they kiss gently and this time they stop, they’re just holding each other, their lips meet repeatedly in passionate bouts but yet they’re so gentle to each other, their hands just ghosting the other as if afraid the other would fall to pieces like a butterflies wings when touched. Their parting is breathless, though they’ve barely parted at all, their eyes meet and she just wants to tell him she loves him over and over again, she wants to scream to from the top of mountains that she loves him, she wants to tell everybody she knows that he’s the love of her life that there is nothing else she wants in this life than to be beside him for the rest of it. She doesn’t think she could ever be this happy again, she doesn’t think that a life without him in it would make her happy in the least- she needed him.

And he needed her, she made his heart want to leap and the words are there on the tip of his tongue but he cannot bring himself to say it. He can’t tell her that he loves her, he doesn’t know what to say to her, he doesn’t know how to express what he’s feeling, it constricts in his chest and it squeezes at his heart and he swears he can’t breathe. They’re standing so close but he wants her closer, he wants her in his arms forever and the fact that she’s his for the rest of his life is something he can’t genuinely wrap his head around- not all good things last surely. She’s too good to be true, this should be nonexistant but she’s right there, she’s standing before him and he feels a blush creep up his neck, he’s never felt so… well god he couldn’t explain it- there was something between them, something so close that tugged at his heart that made him feel inexplicable and make him feel undefined. He was rooted to the ground he stood on, he never wanted to let her go and he was barely holding her. 

“I…” he starts and her brows furrow, she watches him, waiting for him to finish his sentence but the words died in his throat- he wished they hadn’t. 

“I love you too,” she whispers, smiling softly and he laughs softly, nodding slightly. He can’t bring himself to say anything, he just wants to cherish her because he’s afraid he’s going to lose her: that one day he’ll wake up and no longer have her. Stiles thinks that he never wants to live in a world where he doesn’t wake up to greet Lydia Martin, he doesn’t know how he lived like that to start with. 

 

Theo puts the pen down and he watches as the ink dries. He can’t bring himself to send the letter, he can’t bring himself to tell Stiles and his chest constricts and his eyes water and he can’t help but feel  _ shame.  _ There’s nowhere to turn and nobody to tell, all there was, was the hurt that brought on by his own self. He thinks that he’s wrong, that he can’t feel this way because it was deviation, that he was disobeying the commandments of his lord- that this love that he felt was his utter destruction and hell bound. He was wrong. 

This was something he could never admit to, that what he felt was genuine because nobody would ever tell him so. Men that interested in men were often married to cover, they claimed to be happy in their lives, they lead it on with no distinction from another but how could he? How could he do that when he knew that it was wrong at heart? Though he couldn’t bare to think it- he was the one that was wrong. He was the one that was in the wrong and he could be happy, he could be normal, and he could redeem himself.

But who was there to tell? Who was there to announce that he was done being this way? And he found himself wondering if he really was. He wonders if there’s any point at all- he thinks back to the nights in harvard with Stiles and he thinks how that love felt so  _ natural.  _ Like it was meant to happen. Though how could something meant to be end so poorly and yet never end at all? God has his reasons for all things, but Theo wonders if God intended this love inside of him or if he was delusional and plagued by the devil. He wonders if he oughta just turn himself in before he pursues himself further into the wrong.

He looks back to the letter and the ink is still wet, it gleams in the daylight slightly and he sighs, biting back his tears but it’s unbearable, the tears fall anyways. 

 

_ Dear Stiles,  _

_ I know my timing is unbearable but I genuinely need a friend _

_ I understand the point of which you suffered that year in harvard with the affair. _

_ I need somebody who understands- why is that this feels so wrong when I don’t think I could help it? _

_ Where did I turn that this became irreversible and I became a sodomist?  _ _  
_ _ I don’t have anywhere else to turn and I feel as if I’m trapped.  _

_ Your dear friend _

  1. _Raeken_



 

Lydia sets the tea in front of Stoker and then Stiles cup in front of him, and she smiles proudly as she moves to make her own cup. Stiles laughs slightly, running a hand through his styled hair. She seemed so happy, she seemed as though she had conquered the world just because she made a cup of tea.

“How are you holding up?” Lydia asks stoker as she sits with her tea and Stoker smiles slightly.

“I’m alright, you don’t gotta worry about an old man like myself.”

“Of course we do,” Stiles cut in. “Somebody does- everybody needs somebody to worry for them. Of course we worry.” 

Stoker puts his hand over Stiles and smiles. “I’m doin fine, kid.”

“Good.” 

Stiles smiles and Lydia smiles at the two of them, sipping her tea. 

“Have you spoken to your mother, Lydia?” Stoker asks.

“I wrote her a couple weeks ago and she never wrote me back,” Lydia says and he nods.

“Don’t resent her, she’s lonely without you. Every parent is when their child leaves.” 

“I’ll talk to her… one day, I promise.”

“Invite her to the wedding, let her into your life just a bit.”

“I promise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in other words, a short filler chapter of sorts! I promise something a bit longer will come your way maybe later tonight or tomorrow! Also, I really hope you all listened to that song, it's INCREDIBLE. leave good vibes~


	37. Chapter 33

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sweet Nothing . mp3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> an easy breezy 11 page chapter! With all the angst and fluff you could desire. Sorry for being absent yesterday! I'll try to make up for it by posting another today

It was one drowsy afternoon that Scott, Lydia, Allison and Stiles were sitting in the drawing room under the pale sunlight in Stiles house when Greg decidedly barges in. Stiles isn’t paying attention, him and Scott are whispering about something on the couch and Stiles has a strange kind of smile on his face- she could almost misplace it for pride but it wasn’t quite there to be that exact emotion. She wonders what's going on but doesn’t have long as Greg wanders over to demand his attention. 

“Now you wouldn’t believe what these people are telling me!” He says, his crew in tote, the other men looking at Stiles expectantly. “They sent me this notice about-” and so he kept on talking, Greg waving the paper in front of him and Stiles, without second thought, Snatches it exasperatedly. He glances over the papers and Lydia moves to sit beside him as he does so- his work always fascinated her- and she notices him carefully scanning the paper. Greg stands there watching him.

“Well, aren’t they wrong? Tell me all that paper is just bullshit they’d be spewing.”

“No it’s not,” Stiles said. “And if I were you, I’d go on with paying the taxes to the house of the deceased family member rather than complaining-” Stiles starts before he goes into all the crucial details of royalties and legalities and why he was wrong.

“Excuse me?” Greg asks when Stiles is finished and he sighs, before re-explaining everything he said in a very slow voice. Lydia watches the man get flush with temper, taking Stiles tea cup and sipping from it since her own was all the way by Allison (who was now accompanied by Scott), her eyes scanning them amused as her lips blew lightly at the steaming cup of tea. Stiles finishes and goes to hand back the papers.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about- you’re just a damn kid.”

“Yeah I’m really just a kid with a claim to his name? I ain’t got a damn thing on you, never have and never will- you really think you just know it all don’t you? Listen, I’m savin you trouble.”

“You’re savin me nothin- you’re tryin to run me broke.”

“I ain’t tryin to do nothin. You said they’re wrong and they’re not- if you really wanna dispute it, take it to the county court. Otherwise it’s not my claim to bud in on something I have no practicality in- and besides, I’ve already told you the deal with it. So it’s not my job to agree with you.”

“Oh sure, you think you’re real hot or something, huh?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Listen, maybe you could just go on up there and ask them- Since I’m such an imbecile and all.” 

“Are you mocking me?” Greg asks, danger edging his tone and Lydia giggles at how bored he seems, his cup having been placed down on the saucer and he chuckles at her.

“You can have it,” he tells her.

“Well I’m not going to hold it until my hands burn off,” she teases before Greg picks him up angrily and Stiles seems physically offended by the touch of the man, looking down to where his hands were on his lapels. His eyes went dead cold, challenge prowling there and Greg seemed slightly afraid but he didn’t back off.

“Who are you fooling?” Greg whispered.

“Who are  _ you  _ fooling? I’m not fooling anybody. Now unhand me.”

Greg lashes out at that and lets him go before moving to punch him in the face and Stiles dodges him in a flash and gives him a look.

“You are  **so** predictable, good god in heaven- did you want to duel in Weehawken while we’re at it? Because I really don’t want to pull a piston on you- or a sword for that matter. But if I really have to, I’ll cut your leg off.” 

Greg was about to go for him but Stiles stepped back with a warning look, Lydia was casually checking out her nails and Allison was less than interested, looking over at her. “You need a new color,” she points out. “You’ve had that clear lacquer forever. Make them that nice turquoise or something.”

“Ah yes that  _ is  _ a lovely shade- perhaps I will.” Lydia glances at Stiles and he’s got a venom in his eyes, he’s ready to fight if he has to and Greg looks unnerved, she doesn’t know if anything in the past moment had been exchanged but Scott looks ready to step in, Allison puts her hand out over his chest to stop him. 

“Greg, you ought’a leave before you get yourself in some trouble, I told ya, just listen to the people and it ain’t gon kill ya. You’re not always right and frankly, I don’t give a damn what you have to say.”

“Listen you little runt, your father was right when he said you don’t know how to hold your tongue- you disrespectful piece of-”

Lydia could see it then, he was visibly angry, this wasn’t a joke to Stiles anymore and his jaw locked as he took the insults, stood there and took it,. “Son of a  _ bitch-”  _ That’s what got him and next thing she knew Greg was thrown against the floor and stunned on his back.

“Listen, I can take a lot of things but my mother is stronger than you’ll ever be and she’s sufficed enough suffering. Insult me all you want but  _ do not  _ speak poorly on my parents. You’d have half a mind to even think of speaking to me again, you’d be lucky if I don’t tear you down from your petty high up pedestal in the sky and threw you so low into the pits of hell that you burned in the square for everyone to see. You’re a lousy, uneducated, foolish, pretentious asshole and I’ve put up with you for  _ weeks.  _ Either you fuck off or I’ll make sure you don’t live to see another good day your entire life. You have no right to walk into my house, insult me or my family, talk down to my servants, voice your opinion as if you were God and believe me, if you’re anything you’re a satanist, just because you think you’re really hot shit or something. If it came down to a war I hope you get shot first you do-nothing, know-nothing, son of a-”

“Stiles! He gets it,” Scott finally cuts in, Standing to push him away before he actually pounced on the man and turned him to pieces and Greg was just staring stunned, and to remind one that Stiles’ language was as foul as it got in that moment, each insulting, biting, dirty and sinful. Lydia wouldn’t dare admit she kind of liked the way the words sounded on his tongue, she also wouldn’t admit she was kind of afraid of him in that moment- he looked like he’d do anything in the path of destruction that Greg had forced him to forge. He even presses against Scott as if willing to go back and finish what had been started but Scott pushes him away. 

“Come on,  _ stop.  _ You’re not on his level, step up a little and let it go,” Scott soothes and Stiles huffs. “Come on… let’s go outside.” 

Stiles nods and he lets Scott drag him away, the girls standing to trail behind and Lydia scoffs as Greg tries to stand before spilling the pot of hot tea near the table she’d been sitting all over her dress. “Oh my god! I am so sorry!” He yells instantly as Lydia screeches and both men turn around.

“Jesus Christ what is wrong with you!” Stiles yells, Allison coming up behind Lydia to escort her out. “Are you okay?” Stiles asks and Lydia nods.

“It’s just hot… really hot,” she says, bouncing on her toes a bit. “I have to go change. We’ll meet you outside?” And Stiles nods, pecking her cheek goodbye and Lydia quickly makes her way upstairs and Greg looks helpless.

“Listen I didn’t mean to-”

“Learn your place,” Stiles bites. “Because this isn’t it.” 

He turns on his heels and drags Scott outside, Scott lets him sit on the steps and Stiles is kind of heaving for breath, as if he can’t seem to catch it. “You really snapped,” Scott points out lamely.

“He was really pushing the envelope.”

“So were you Stiles..”

“I’m never allowed a little leeway? An older man physically attacks me and my verbal set back is the fault? You’re siding with him.”

“I’m not siding with anyone I’m just saying-”

“That I’m wrong and I should have set him off to the side and let him go? Because I’m really not allowed to snap at people and precious fucking image is just on the line because some  _ nobody-” _

“Calm down!” Scott loudly whispers, before saying some sort of prayer and Stiles can’t calm down, he feels like he’s falling apart because he’s so angry- he feels attacked, Scott isn’t really making it any better- he feels victimized. Why was he always the victim? Why did this always happen to him? Why did people always point fingers at him then stare in shock when he retaliates? 

It isn’t another second that Stiles pulls together, at least externally. He takes a deep breath, he bites back the biting, hot tears and he swallows the lump in his throat. “I think I’m going for a walk.” 

And he considers never coming back. He knows he has to. 

 

Lydia is pulling on a new dress, looking at the one she had worn previously. “And to think I just got it- look at how beautiful it was and now it’s all covered in tea! Lucky me I wasn’t set into flames.”

“Ah shucks Lydia, you don’t mean that. It wasn’t that hot.” Allison looks her over and frowns a bit at the look on Lydia’s face, it wasn’t pleasant. “Are you okay? You look sort of afraid.”

“I’ve never really seen him that angry.”

“I think he’s just about had it with that man. It’s been… almost two whole months now? Sure he’s just about had it, all his letters to me detail his utter hate and deposition for him. It’s a little ridiculous. But I suppose when somebody snaps like that, you would think there’s purpose.”

“I hope he’s okay… I don’t know if it was all really just anger- I think he felt belittled.”

“It tends to happen. Stiles doesn’t know what to do when faced with opposing power.”

“And I s’pose he’d never had to know,” Lydia said, a bit of a southern slang slipping into her own wording and Allison can’t help but smile slightly at that. 

“I guess… but sometimes it happen, don’t it? And it ain’t his fault- he just… I guess you forget he’s really only 19 years old, that he’s not even in his twenties yet. That there’s still a boy inside that body and people throw him around as if he’s older than that. And then when he opposes them he’s an unknowing, god forsaken, mumbling child who doesn’t have any say in anything.”

“I see the problem,” Lydia agrees. “Come on, we should go outside,” Lydia tells her, grabbing Allisons hand and they go to where they find Scott walking in to find the rest of their families. 

“Where is Stiles?” Allison asks as she takes his hand.

“He said he went for a walk, pretty sure he rounded off to the back of his house.”

Lydia’s eyes brighten with knowledge and she leaves the other two standing as she struts out of the house and into the back, down the porch steps, through the garden and into the woods to the large standing tree in the center, she can just barely see him climbing up the limbs from the tree, she hadn’t been there since he sat her on the first branch to tell his secret but she remembered it quite vividly.

“Won’t you come down, Oh Romeo? You’re Juliet awaits you not high but rather low tonight,” she cooes, pulling herself up onto the first branch and leaning against it to look up at him.

“You are literally  _ ridiculous!”  _ He thought it was kind of cute how she compared them to Romeo and Juliet, and he also thinks she’s smart for saying something like that. He doesn’t voice that opinion though. 

“Oh Stiles, won’t you come down to see me? Come on, come here.”

“Lydia I just want to be alone.”

“I don’t think I trust you to be alone of all things.” 

“And why is that?”

“You get a bit risque.”

“How would you know that?”

“It’s just who you are… You tend to get full in your head and thoughts alike.” she pauses. “If you’re looking for validation, you weren’t wrong. Better bit with words than beaten to death.”

“I don’t  _ need  _ validation, I did what I had to.”

She sighs, because sometimes he retreated into himself like this- where he would turn on her from being so open and loving to her back to where they started- he would cold shoulder the world and block it out as if it wasn’t there. Stuck in a hemisphere between him and himself. She thinks that she doesn’t deserve to be shut out and she thinks that he doesn’t deserve to shut the world out and she climbs up the tree, she counts all the branches as she does, and works her way up to the branch beside the one he was leaning on. 

“You need validation. I know it almost to be fact.”

“But you’re not entirely certain so you couldn’t say for it to be fact and in which cases, what  _ i  _ say is fact, and I say that I don’t need it.

“I say that you’re a dirty liar.”

“Please,” he scoffs and is toying with a leaf that had floated down and if you looked up you could see an owl perched in its nest. Lydia thought it best not to disturb them. She watches him and he smiles kind of, it’s a distant smile, a not really there smile. “You know… There used to be a harvest around here when I was much younger and every year it’d be this whole celebration, a sort of communal holliday.  It was Grandfather's job to put it all together and I guess dad just never had the heart to pick it back up- I guess he thought he could never outdo him.” 

“Why’d you tell me that?”

“I don’t know. I just thought of it. Like how this leaf looks like maple but is from a sycamore, it’s just a thought.”

“Maple sugar or maple leaves?”

“Maple sugar obviously. Though you can’t get maple sugar without maple trees and maple trees have maple leaves- so I suppose a bit of both.”

“Ah… I see… Scott said you were going for a walk.”

“I plan to.”

“Why are you up here then?”

“I thought I’d visit a place of comfort.”

“This is the fourteenth largest branch on the tree- is this the fourteenth secret?”

“Sure. Did you want the story?”

“If you want to tell me.”

“So when I was 13 I was with Allison here in the woods and we were just foolin around, playin games and all and I saw this poor baby bird was stuck in it’s nest, so I climbed up, and I was standin on this branch- i used to be very short back then, you should know- and well the bird was in it’s nest so I sort of climbed up on that-” he moves his back off and points to a small indent that was around neck height, though beside where his head had been. Lydia moves to look over. “So I move myself up and I have hold on the branch and I see that it’s broken it's wing. So I tell Allison ‘it's broken it’s wing!’ and She says that we must get it down and bring it to T’any so she can fix him. I agreed and I reached up and well, let’s just say I near about died, broke three of my bones- real brutal too. It wasn’t like I fell, like I  _ fell.  _ It was perilous. Broke both of my legs and an arm- had to get surgery on my stomach because a twig was lodged in there- you can still scarcely see the scar tissue.”

Lydia just blinks at him before opening her mouth to speak but nothing comes out. Finally she comes to her senses. “That was the craziest thing I’ve ever heard and I know that’s the kind of thing a man says to show off or something and you’re not supposed to believe it but seriously you’re just  _ crazy  _ and of course I believe it because it’s something you would do. What happened to the bird?”

“Allison and I never got to save it, but I made one of the servants go get it from the tree so he didn’t suffer. He was a real nice Cave Swallow and I kept him as a pet for a while, but then I found Athena and had to let the bird go so she wouldn’t eat him; the crazy cat.”

Lydia scoffs and shakes her head. “She hissed at me the other day.”

“What can I say? She’s jealous, you’re taking her man.”

“You’re such a nut, she’s a cat.”

“A jealous cat. I  _ raised  _ her, she’s not used to sharing.”

“What is it? Your child?” She teases, their hands lacing absently in the space between them. 

“Athena is my  _ baby.  _ She’s as much as my child as any we have together.”

“Really, you say I’m crazy.”

“I haven’t said it in a while, you can’t pin things like that on me.”

“I can- you say it frequently enough.” 

“Alright, I’m considering your point, it’s not  _ wrong.  _ But also… it has been a long while- at least long enough.” 

“Not long enough. Only in your head.”

“The tables have turned apparently. So I’m a little crazy, but consider this- you’re still a witch and you wouldn’t ever voluntarily enter a church, would you?”

“I would! You’re so  _ mean. _ ”

“Well… Just brutally honest.” 

“Alright, point filed away for further consideration at a later date,” she says, almost mocking his voice and she scoffs.

“What’s that accent you have goin on? I don’t like it. It’s like… weird. Like you’re all proper and northy with a tinge of a virginian dialect.”

“Why am I proper and northy but you’ve got like specifics?”

“Oh rich Northy’s all sound the same.”

“Sure. And Rich southerners all sound the same.”

“Respectively.”

She giggles and squeezes his hand. “Got a story for this branch here?”

“Can’t give all my secrets away Lydia Martin.” Stiles shrugs, thinking on it for a moment. He laces brings her fingers to his lips and kisses at her knuckles, each knuckle receiving a kiss and then maybe another before his lips moved to kiss the next knuckle. 14 kisses in reason, though more in consideration of distributed extras. She just lets him, she figures if there was something to tell her, then he would say it. She wonders if there isn’t one and figures that it really doesn’t matter, she loves him either way and she can suffice with kisses. He really was such a romantic sometimes. 

“Wanna take a walk with me Lydia Martin?”

“I’d be honored.”

“Don’t fall on the way down,” he teases before he himself moved and swung down to a lower branch and then to another. Lydia, unlike Stiles who carelessly swung his way down and somehow still managed to land unharmed, took careful steps down, making sure she didn’t fall and when she jumped from the final branch, she landed beside Stiles and tripped over his foot. His eyes widening as he jumped back. 

“Jesus!” 

“You did that on purpose!” She cries.

“I did no such thing!” 

“You tripped me!”

“I didn’t! I didn’t mean to anyways.”

She pouts and he leans down to pulls her up by the arm and even dusts the dirt off her dress. “See? All better.”

“Second ruined dress today. Look what you do to me.”

“The first time wasn’t my fault necessarily.”

“Faulted enough.”

“Oh please. Besides, look the dress is fine. It just needs a quick wash later, as if it didn’t already. No big deal.”

She leans over and pokes at his cheek. “Maybe you should wash it for me, since you like ruining my dresses so much.”

“You don’t wash the dresses anyways. Jennifer does.”

“Yeah but it's not fair to poor Jennifer for her to have to wash  _ two  _ of my dresses tomorrow morning. Are you saying you’re afraid of a little hard work Stiles?”

“What? No!”

She giggles and he frowns. “Maybe  _ you  _ should wash your dresses since you’re such a working woman,” he says, pulling her along to start walking on the property with him. Lydia lets him, tugging at his end very gently. 

“That’s not my job and besides you’re the one being punished here not me.”

“Your dress is fine. And besides, I work harder than you.”

“Says who?” 

“You do literally nothing all day.”

“Nobody said you had to do  _ anything.  _ You choose to work.”

“And I’m not complaining-”

“How did we get to this point in the conversation? Are you going to wash the dress or back down on the bet?”

“I’ll wash the dress, on account you clean one of the rooms.”

“Both the dresses.”

“A done deal.”

“He attacked me! Started throwing all sorts of words at me and I was just asking for his help. The boy has no manners, not in the slightest! And you know all the curses that left his mouth? Totally defied me, saying all sorts of ungodly things, just because I handed him a paper!” Greg proclaims in fits of rage, Carol putting her hand on his arm, looking hurt.

“Stiles? My Stiles? Did that to you? No he wouldn’t, he’s not like that. Are you sure?”

“Yes! I just told him if he could tell me what it was all about and he just bursts into fits about how I must think I know everything and how I’m pretentious and then a string of these horrible,  _ unthinkable  _ words- god bless his heart, I hope he’s forgiven. Then he left in a fit.”

Claudia stands to take charge for her son, Stiles had more composure than that- there must be more than it but John was a step ahead of her- only a step in the wrong direction. 

“I’ll take care of him, what did he say? What did he say to you?”

Greg fumbles for a moment before explaining to the group how Stiles had proclaimed him an asshole, and how he continued to tell him that either he ‘fuck off or never see another good day in his life’ and how Stiles had proceeded to threaten him. He painted the boy violently, made him out to be the enemy and Claudia could tell John was beyond angered and as he stormed out, Claudia was a step behind him, the rest of the family quiet. 

“Carol, you oughta hope your husband isn’t lying,” Kasia says before patting her husband's hand and moving to leave the room, side eying the man.

 

Allison was draped beside Scott, listening to Mari talk. She was playing with his fingers, their hands lacing after a moment. Then she let go and sat up. “I’m restless. We must do something- can we play a game?” Allison asks innocently, eyes gleaming up at Scott. Scott smiles down at her and shrugs. 

“Whatever you want- what do you say?” He asks Stiles cousins and they all agree, Allison instantly ordering cards to be brought to them. As the cards are got, she moves to pull Scott up and prods Daniel. 

“Play the piano Daniel, I want dance!” 

Daniel obeys and leisurely walks to the piano where he sits at the stool. He positions his hands before starting a simple waltz. Allison takes Scott by the hand and they fall into position, Scott leading her- step forward, step backward twice, step forward, to the side and go in circles, repeating the motions over and over again. She’s having fun, she’s laughing, she’s smiling and Scott could never ask for anything more.

The deep dimpled smile of hers lit the room as if the brightest star ever known was sitting in the room and he swore her laugh could resurrect life, bloom flowers, ripen fruit, grow the most lush grass ever seen. She was an angel of earth, her touch was pure and as white as the clouds above. The room was cold and the day was colder, though she was so warm he might have never noticed at all- it felt warm as a summer's day- and it was really all her fault, that she was so radiant and beautiful. 

Scott twirls her and as the music picks up, so do they. They break into a polka, moving about with giddy steps, trotting about the room in circles and quick steps. She’s giggling, leaning her head back slightly as he swings her about. And soon the rest of them are up to dance too and when the music changes, they’re up to a mazurka , in groups and dancing about. They’re all dancing and laughing- Allison glancing across the room to see Scott and as the song switches back to a fast paced waltz, Allison and Scott cross over to each other and as he grabs her arm, she kisses him and they circle for a moment (kiss in tact) before parting and laughing with each other. 

Soon they’re up to pace with the rest of the group- they don’t even realize a table for cards with tea and coffee had been set up in the back of the parlor they were sat in along the bar. (It was more of a party room parlor, rather a drawing room.) Allison let him twirl her and she dips her head back again, spinning beautifully, her face almost euphoric as she gleams with happiness, her dress brushing against his legs, her hands hold the fabric of his jacket.  They were happy… she was happy… he was happy- Scott thought he wants this forever and he thinks back to the moment when Allison asked if he was hers and he thinks that he would never be anybody else's.

  
  


“John would you think for a second! When would Stiles ever do something like that? Don’t you trust your son?”

“He’s been out of line lately and we both know it. He’s been giving that man all sorts of-”

“He hasn’t done anything wrong! We don’t even know where he is! What if he’s hurt? What if something happened to him?”

“Why would Greg lie?”

“So he doesn’t seem like the one at fault. My son is not a-”

“Your son thinks rather highly of himself- his games have come to an end, he’s not a child anymore and he can’t get what he wants-”

“Do you even hear yourself? I swear on the lords name, hear it now, you set a single hand on him I will throw you out of this house and let you live with the Yeomen. I don’t care if this house belongs to your name, he’s twenty years old!”

“I’ll do what I want, he’s my son-”

“Now he’s yours?”

“Mine to discipline. Look where your tactics got us- he’s running a muck.”

“He hasn’t done anything. He gets a chance to speak-”

John turns around and she stops in her steps. “Shut up- god dammit, do you ever shut up? I’ll do what I need to. He’s spoke out and that’s enough. He’s done his damage, now he pays for what he’d done.”

Claudia bites her tongue before storming off past him. “Don’t even think of entering our room, or speaking to me. Whatever happens to him is on you.”

“If he’s as strong as he presents himself he’ll fight back.”

“All devils pay their price. He’ll be stronger than you ever will be or have been.”

John sighs, watching his wife leave and he’s bitter. How could his son do that? After all the trust he places in Stiles and Stiles tarnishes their name, makes a fool of his family and makes a fool of his father. He ruined them. He left them to be criticized, to say that he wasn’t raised to be a man- that he was raised as if an immigrant in the slums: rude, deceitful, spiteful, dirty, arrogant-

John has to stop to breathe before he charges off to go find his son. He bursts into the Parlor where the kids are dancing and scans the room. Though they all stop in lieu of his arrival. 

“Where’s Stiles?” John demands of them.

“He went for a walk,” Allison said. “He was cooling down.”

She sees the anger waver in his look before she steps forward. “Stiles was attacked.”

“Being handed a piece of paper is an attack?”

“What? He explained the contract or what not to Greg and then Greg launched at him and started insulting Claudia so Stiles handed his words back to him.”

“You’re just defending the bastard-”

“What are you talking about? I’m not lying!” 

“Where is he?”

“I don’t know! Walking! Don’t you believe me Uncle John?” Allison pleads and John shrugs her off as she follows him out and she grabs his arm and he throws her off before softening for a minute and helping her up. 

“Stay out of this.”

“He did nothing wrong.” 

“He stepped out of his place. That I can’t stand for.”

  
  


Lydia twirls around under the tree leaves, boots crunching against the frosted ground. It’s cold and they have no jackets on but she doesn’t mind, she doesn’t mind because she’s having such a good time as she walks with Stiles who catches her by the waist when she stops spinning. “Look, a cardinal,” he points out and she’s looking up dizzily at it, laughing softly.

“It’s so beautiful,” she cooes, reaching up to brush his hair out of his eyes, grinning. Stiles grins back and he kisses her head softly, Lydia melting in his arms. She leans her head against his shoulder and their hands lace. 

“Just like you,” he adds and she giggles brightly, leaning up to kiss him, their lips meeting. For a moment he forgets he was upset at all- he forgets that he’s yelled at all, that he’d stepped out of place, and he leans into her, he holds her. He forgets, for the moment their holding each other in a soft embrace that the world exists at all. It’s just them- there is no time and there is no world and there isn’t anything else between the space of her lips on his and her body heat and his. 

They were cold to the touch but warm deeper in. He wants to hold her forever, she wants to stay with him, in their cold bodied embrace for the rest of all time- she’d die here like this if it meant they died together. If they stayed together. If it was just her and Stiles, she would stay and she would never want to leave- not now in that moment and not ever again. The part of their lips feels like such a loss, as if they had cut a cord pulling between the two of them but they don’t kiss again, they just stay close to each other, her back to his chest, their hands laced.

“Perhaps we should be getting back.”

“Not yet.”

  
  


When they did get back Stiles was instantly advised upstairs and Brett escorted him there- Stiles knew it was bad as he entered the drawing room. 

“Papa, what’s goin on?”

“I think we need to talk.”

“Is this about what happened with Greg?”

“You damn right it is. Who do you think you are, saying things like that to somebody? That’s not how I raised you! You put a bad name to this family. You want people to expect that of you upon meeting? See a bumbling, angered, fowl mouthed man? Is that what you want? You’re labeling me and you’re labeling yourself! This isn’t some kind of game. Do you think it is? Is this a game to you?”

“No-” He gets a look. “No sir,” he mumbles, voice feeble.

“You think it is, don’t you? What defense do you have? Walking up to somebody and snatching them of their right? Who are you to  _ threaten  _ people?” Stiles doesn’t say anything, he doesn’t know what to  _ say _ . Just shoves him over onto the couch. “Answer me!” 

“He crossed his boundaries! I said what I had to! Maybe if  _ he  _ watched his mouth-” 

John made a show of it to slap him straight across the mouth. “That gives you no right- you’re tarnishing this family's name. Isn’t it enough we let you out of the house and trust you with that girl? God knows what you do behind our back- what else have you done to ruin this family?”

“I haven’t ruined anything!” 

“He’s going to tell people-”

“He’s not going to tell anybody!” 

John picks him up by the lapels. “Who are you raising your voice on? You really think the world surrounds you don’t you?” 

“I…”

John tosses Stiles back down as if he’s a ragdoll. “I raised you better than that, know your place.” He left the room and Stiles sat there- he felt  _ ten  _ and he was near about twenty. The tears caught in his throat and Brett moves in momentarily and goes to help him up. 

“Hey it’s no big deal, okay? Stiles…?”

“He hasn’t done that since I was… God I can’t even remember.”

“Are you okay?”

“I don’t really know.”

“What are you feeling?”

“I don’t know.”

“Are you okay?”

“I think my trust has shattered.”

“In your father?”

“I don’t know.”

“So you’re not okay.”

“In theory.”

“I don’t know if I understand…”

“I don’t either, Brett.”

“Do you want to go take a bath or something?”

“I think I’m going to go downstairs. Are they in the parlor still?”

“Yes, Lydia’s there too.”

“A’right. I ought’a go meet them.”

“Right…” Brett nods and Stiles seems a little empty. “You don’t have to if you don’t-”

“I’m fine, perfectly capable.”

Though he went to sit with them but he seemed dazed, Allison knew what was happening, Lydia seemed confused, Scott got the hint. 

Stiles smiles when Lydia takes his hand and shrugs slightly. “I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah I’m sure. It’s all fine.”

“You look upset.”

“I have no reason to be upset. It’s fine.”

“Okay… I trust you.”

_ At least somebody did.  _


	38. chapter 34

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not just a girl . mp3

The tension that filled between the immediate family was overbearing. John and Stiles side stepped each other- would barely eat in the same room. Claudia refused to be near him. Claudia’s parents stood beside Claudia. Greg was silenced amongst others, especially when one man had leaked the argument between John and Stiles and now they all knew what was happening between them. Allison wasn’t around for a few days. The entirety of the affair took it’s toll on Stiles and plagued him for a few days, he was more quiet than usual and Lydia had wanted to say something but left it to him to open up- he never did. She watched him willow just slightly for a while; he would never be home anymore but would be working or out with friends many hours of the day, in which when at work the boys would join him. This always elated Stoker, he liked little kids- Caddy and Jack were no exception. 

Today was really no different, Stiles was in his office and Jack was reading a book while Caddy took a nap. Stiles was content with the situation, finishing his work by 6.30 and bringing them home. They went in and Stiles was greeted by Lydia walking down the stairs holding swatches and Allison holding a book of sorts. Lydia beams when she looks up to see Stiles and practically flies down the stairs to greet him, Stiles grinning as he catches her into a kiss, a hand catching her by the hip. 

“Oh I missed you! You’re missing all the wedding planning, look- I can’t decided. Eggshell or ecru? Rose or Red Velvet?” she shows him the swatches, a pair splayed in each hand between fingers. Stiles looks at them and shrugs. 

“Those-” he gestures to the egg and ecru. “Look the same. But… I like rose better. Maybe both. For what may I ask?”

“For the bunnies!” Caddy says a matter of factly. “We gettin ribbon’s for the bunnies,” he explains and Stiles laughs, rubbing a hand on his brothers head, Jack nosing in between them.

“Why are you choosing between white and white?” Jack asks.

“They’re not  _ white.  _ This one is eggshell and this one is ecru!”

“They’re both white, Lydia,” Jack deadpans and Allison giggles.

“I’m looking at flower arrangements, the shop let us borrow the wedding book. Can you believe the wedding is just a bit over a month away? Anyways I like these with the pink peonies and the lavenders between. Or maybe these with the red roses and-”

“The flowers need to be  _ white  _ Ally,” Lydia tells her. “What’s a wedding without white flowers? We can’t have pinks and purples about, they’ll think it’s a garden party or something!” 

“She’s right. What do they have?” Stiles agrees. 

“Well they have white roses and a bushel of white daisies with peonies between.”

“That’s nice. Come on, let’s move down to the drawing room,” Lydia asserts, nudging her fiance and the boys are bouncing on their toes. 

“Can we come too?” Jack asks.

“Sure thing Jack baby. You can come along.”

Both boys follow them into the drawing room and Allison and Lydia lay everything out to see. Lydia showing him the off white, bordering gold looking,  color that his vest and shirt would have to be. The color of the drapes and the decorations and how everything would look, right down to the table cloths- which is what they were deciding on at the moment.

“Eggshell is nice but the ecru tint is pretty too, don’t you think?” Allison asks and Stiles is watching them decide, Jack on his lap reading a book. 

“Stiles would you pick one?”

“I don’t know, close yours eyes or flip a coin or somethin- they look the same to me.”

“Just  _ pick  _ one,” Lydia pleaded and Stiles sighed, squinting his eyes at the two cards. 

“Uhm… Ecru, it’s darker- so I spose it sort of… fits your ideals.”

“Alright. So what are we deciding on for flowers? So we can go and order them tomorrow.”

“Us?” 

“Yes you two, did you want me to order them with her?” Allison scoffs.

“Well it would be nice if I didn’t always get a last minute notice. I mean how this wedding is going to look is as good as a surprise if you ask me.”

“Have you booked the church? You’d have to wait and this is all for naught if you haven’t and-”

“Allison, it’s been booked since December, we’re fine. You’re more concerned about this than I am.”

Lydia is looking through the flower book and shows Stiles an arrangement. “This one?”

“That one’s nice,” he agrees. 

“And this one for our table,” she says, showing him the green plant surrounding an arrangement of white roses shaped like a heart. “Isn’t just absolutely adorable?”

“It’s sickeningly sweet.”

“I’m going to take that as a yes.”

“Of  _ course  _  you are.”

“You couldn’t say no to me.”

“Naturally I’m in no place of opposition.” 

“Naturally.”

Allison smiles at the two, their hands lacing between the couches, hanging over the arms, just at the junction between the two and they’re smiling, they’re really  _ smiling.  _ It almost felt like she was intruding. 

“How did work go by the way?” Lydia asks out of the blue.

“The same as it always does.”

“Any news on my father?”

“Not that I’ve heard of and I recently wrote Mr. Darcy on the matter and I don’t think he’s seen it quite yet, so I don’t know for certain anything on the matter.”

She nods and squeezes his hand. “Thank you for writing him.”

“It wasn’t a bother at all.” 

“I invited my mother for dinner tonight. Will you be nice to her?”

“With the whole family?”

“Well, I’ve arranged so it’s just me, you and our mothers.”

“Well this is news to  _ me, _ ” Allison comments and Lydia giggles, disregarding her. 

“That’s not too bad an arrangement,” Stiles agrees. “T’any pulled out the good honey glazed chicken then?”

“I could imagine. She said she’d make a show for me.”

“Definitely making the honey glaze.”

“Is that bad?”

“That depends, if that chicken isn’t stripped to the bone of it’s meat then we’re all gettin whipped up on the old hickories in the forest tomorra morning.”

“Really?” Caden asked scared and Lydia giggles brightly.

“Not really Caddy. Don’t say things like that around them,” Lydia scolds, prodding him with her foot. Stiles moves to dust off his pant leg and shakes his head.

“You sound more and more like my mother every day.”

“What’s wrong with your mother?”

“ _ Nothing.  _ Just that it’s weird. I don’t want to be married to my mom.”

“Well that just sounds weird.” She bursts into a bubbly laughter and Allison is smiling at the papers from her place on the couch. “We’re not that similar!”

“You’re very similar, it’s a little scary sometimes.” 

“Please, you love me.”

“I don’t love you that much, don’t take it to heart.”

“It’s been taken to heart. Love at all warms my poor heart.”

She pouts and he rolls his eyes, leaning over to kiss her pouted lips and she melts into him, Allison glancing up and rolling her eyes, though she chuckles all the same. “Two very young children are watching, if either of you cared at all.”

They pull at each other, as if unable to part, leaning over the couches and Lydia adjusts so shes perched on his knee and Jack makes a disgusted face, watching their passionate liplock. “How do you  _ breathe? _ ”

They both parted with a huff of air between them, giggling and Lydia looks to Stiles to answer Jack and he looks to her, they’re eyes locking and they both wait for the other to turn away to answer- neither does for a moment and she flops back in the cushion she’d previously been on. “Your brother, not mine,” she tells him.

“I mean… You don’t really breathe?”

“Depends on the kiss,” Allison teases.

“What do you mean?” Jack asks.

“ _ Nothing.  _ She doesn’t mean anything,” Stiles covers up, glaring at Allison, who sends back a wicked smile. 

“Does this have to do with the whole bonding thing that you won’t explain to me?” Jack asks and the three pass glances before shrugging.

“You’ll know in due time, Jacky.”

“Wydia did Stiles hurt you?” Caddy asks, poking her knee through her dress and Lydia makes an awed face, pulling him onto her lap and kissing his thin cheeks. 

“Awwh no baby, why would Stiles hurt me?” 

He shrugs. “Are we still putting ribbons on the bunnies?”

“What bunnies Caddy?”

“Papa got new rabbits on the farm for him, so I took him to see them yesterday. Allison promised him we could put ribbons on them,” Stiles informs her.

“Ahhh I see.” 

“Is it about seven already? I must be going,” Allison announces abruptly and Stiles stands as she does to walk her out, Lydia stands to bid her goodbye, the two kissing cheeks. “You have a good night Lydia, alright?”

“Of course.” She smiles and Allison smiles back before taking Stiles arm and letting him lead her out of the room. 

“You alright?” she whispers and he nods. 

“Yeah… I know it sounds bad, but I’m not so excited for the wedding as I am to hightail it outta here. Granted we’re leaving on the 24th but that’s better than not at all. Right?”

“Of course and you’re goin far too. That’s so romantic and european- most American’s would only visit London for a while.”

“London is so dreary, but we are visiting on the way home. Though most of it is time spent in our house in Italy. The one by the ocean?”

“Ahh that’d be nice. It’s secluded, it has a beach,  _ very  _ spacious. It’s perfect.”

“Isn’t it? Also the pool is a nice touch. Lydia would like that.”

“Oh she would. You guys are going to have such a grand time. The wedding party will be nice, though, don’t you think?” 

“Perhaps.”

She nods as they reach the door and the servants part the door and the lamplight outside spills into the dark hallway. “Be safe,” Stiles whispers and she nods.

“Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

Their hands release and she’s trailing down to her carriage as another is pulling in from the distance of the driveway. Stiles lets the door shut and goes back to the drawing room. “Your mother is probably here,” he tells Lydia and she nods, standing. 

“Alright, we all oughta get ready while she waits with your mother.”

“S’a safe call.”

 

Lydia and Stiles had took the boys to the nanny and walked back to their rooms together, hands laced in on each other, her head on his shoulder. “I don’t know if I’m ready for this.”

“You’ll be fine. I’ll be there, mama will be there. It’ll be fine.”

“You’re sure?”

“Its just dinner, how much could wrong?”

“Not much I hope.”

“Go get dressed,” he encourages, turning into his own changing room,  Brett mending a jacket in one of the chairs. “Am I late?”

“Late enough. Let’s get going, you oughta be changed by now- you’ll mother won’t be very happy.”

“I didn’t know about this until ten minutes ago while wedding plannin. It’s not my fault.”

“Oh sure, sure,” Brett says and approaches him, Stiles handing him his jacket where Brett went to hang it up. He then returned and undid the buttons of Stiles vest and proceeds with the shirt. He removes them and grabs the new set. They all looked the same to him but it was only proper. He puts the new white shirt on and he fixes the collar before buttoning the buttons up, not looking up from his work. He smoothes the shirt down before grabbing the vest and helping it on. “Dinner cufflinks or mourning cufflinks?”

Stiles breaks into a grin and Brett feels victorious in his attempts to cheer up his friend, if only for a moment. He didn’t like to see him wilting like this, not after he’d opened up so much.”The dinner ones will serve just fine Brett.”

He smiles and gets the cufflinks before putting them on Stiles. He then hands him his pants and Stiles puts them on, suspenders holding them up underneath the vest (which he had to move to get on); soon enough he was ready to go. 

 

Lydia was already in the room, sitting beside Claudia who was talking to her mother, who looked beautiful in her own tired way. She wore a green, slim dress that hugged her once slim hips and she had rouged lips and hair that fell limply around her shoulders unstyled. Lydia on the other hand wore a puffed out, blue floral dress with a styled bun and cheeks that were pink from pinching. Her daughter was beautiful and youthful, even with signs of distress she seemed to be glowing. Although she was talking to Claudia, she kept glancing to Lydia, who fidgeted with her hands and seemed antsy, Claudia didn’t let her do anything that made her uncomfortable, she kept the conversation up for Lydia. 

Stiles entered a good ten minutes later and Lydia stood to greet him along with their mothers, Lydia moving to take his hand and he kisses her knuckles softly. “Evening M’lady, evening Mrs. Martin, Momma,” he greets, grasping her mother's fingers in greeting for a moment. She nods at him and Stiles sits on one of the smaller couches, Lydia moving to sit beside him. 

Natalie watches for a moment before sighing. “So you’re getting along, then?” She ponders and Stiles smiles gently.

“We are, we’re very happy together- we can barely for the wedding to come.”

Her mother almost blurts out  _ I wonder why  _ but she’s here to stitch wounds not dig the knife further in. She smiles a taut smile and nods. “Aye that’s very good.”

“You’re still invited, momma,” Lydia practically whispers.

“Pardon? Lydia speak up, you know my hearing isn’t as good as it used to be.”

“I said you’re still invited to the wedding,” she speaks up and her mother stares at her for a moment before nodding.

“I didn’t plan on not coming… have you been planning?”

“Everyday, Allison and I have been putting it together. Tomorrow Stiles and I are going to order the flowers, and Stiles said he wanted to order me a cake- but it’s a surprise.”

“Oh how sweet.” Her mother nods and an awkward silence falls drowsily over the group, Lydia casually toying with his fingers, turning to Stiles she leans in to whisper to him, the two captivated amongst themselves and Claudia boredly picks at the pillows, Athena sauntering into the room and laying at Lydia's feet. She yawns and lays her head to rest by her shoes and Lydia smiles perplexed.

“I thought she hated me,” she whispers to Stiles.

“Athena has a sense of protection, she likes to protect those she loves… she’s only really kind to Caddy and I.”

“That’s a sweet notion… a protective cat.”

“Many are… tend to be.”

“I see..” She nods, gently petting the material of Stiles suit jacket, smoothing the small creases down, he smiles and kisses her head causing Lydia to giggle. 

“Can we ride into the town tomorrow?” she asks a bit louder, leaning back though she doesn’t stop playing with the sleeve of his jacket.

“If it makes you happy, we can do anything.”

“Then we can ride into town.”

“Do you even know how to ride, Lydia?”

“Of course I do. Allison taught me the complexities of it.”

“Allison does that a lot for you- ever thanked her?”

“Everytime I see her.” 

“Bless your heart Lydia Martin,” he teases and she giggles, taking his hand to kiss his knuckles. 

“I love you,” she cooes casually. Stiles rolls his eyes slightly but he smiles all the same.

“Sure you do.”

“I do, I really do.”

“Such a romantic.”

“Let me have the moment.”

“Alright alright, start over.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“Isn’t that satisfying?”

“I actually feel kind of pained, actually.”

“You’re such a-”

“Shhh your mother is right there.”

“I hate you.”

“I thought you loved me? Self contradiction and a liar.”

“Oh please.”

“I feel played.”

“Do you?”

“Conned!”

“Impossible, somebody conned you?”

“And here I was giving you my heart with bare hands-”

“Oh the pain, the pain of it all- it’s unbearable!”

“For you to have and to hold! But there you go, ripping it to shreds-”

“Tiny morsels of bloody flesh.”

“All over the ground! Leaving me to bleed and die along with it.”

“Good lord, you two are so over dramatic,” Claudia cuts in. “here I am thinking you’re always whispering about sex or something- is this what you guys  _ really  _ talk about?”

“Well sometimes we talk about shakespeare,” Lydia informs. “And other times about the law. And if he’s in a really good mood, I get to stay at the office and watch him do work with Stoker.”

“She really does like looking over my papers for me. It’s so sweet,” Stiles jokes, smiling brightly.

“Light a cigar and let me kiss your cheek”

“Novelistically romantic,” Stiles says and she giggles at him, leaning forward. Natalie is estranged by the two- they were unlike any other she’d seen. They’re dynamic wasn’t a brutal kind of fun, it was innocent and sweet and it had a double entendre feel to it- like they were doing some dirty flirting but in a clean way. She felt like she was watching something out of the novels Lydia used to read to her. The romance ones where the girls got along very nicely with the boys and they would tell her they loved her until one of them was heartbroken and then gave a big speech about it. No book had to be named, it was all the same really. And she thinks that her daughter had found her match, respectfully so but it almost felt unreal to watch them. Lydia had something she would never have. 

The dinner bell rings and they file out to the dining room.

 

Allison enters the house and her mother is waiting in the foyer with her father and they turn to her as she enters with gleeful smiles.

“Momma… Papa, what’s going on?” She asks, approaching them with a strange smile twitching at her mouth, eyes full of question.

“Oh nothing, somebody is waiting for you in the drawing room. The drawing room?”

“Yes… the drawing room. Go on, go look. The west hall drawing room.”

She nods and she moves to the west hall, finding the drawing room before pushing in. This was the same drawing room that she’d found Scott in when he surprised her- and there he was now, standing in the tinted moonlight and the candle light in the elaborate room, she wonders why he’s here and why her parents seemed so happy- she doesn’t get ahead of herself at all. In fact, she’s tired from the days work with Lydia and really, she’s rather confused.

“Allison,” Scott greets, moving to take her hand.

“Scott, what a lovely surprise,” she whispers and leans up to kiss his cheek. “You wouldn’t believe, I had the longest day. Oh I was wedding planning all day and it’s really starting to make me quite depressed. I hate it, it’s not even my wedding.”

Scott chuckles. “It’s for a good cause, you’ll get the deeds in return; God’s yet to forget you.”

“I hope so… is there a reason you’re here so late in the evening? Do you want something?”

“No I’m alright. I just wanted to talk to you.”

“Talk to me?” She asks scared and he nods, sitting beside her on the couch.

“This is taking me all I have to do this… My parents are against the idea, they think that you’re frivolous and uncaring… They don’t like you in the slightest really and… They want me to marry a catholic girl.”

“Oh…”

“I don’t want a catholic girl though. And I’ve told them that, that I don’t want to marry who they choose and they said that if my choice is any girl besides a catholic girl, then I’m to leave the house.”

“Scott… I-”

“Shh let me finish.”

“Okay… go on then.”

“And I told them I love you. I love you, Allison Argent and I never wanted another girl beside you. I’m willing to give up my entire  _ life  _ to be with you.”

“Why?”

“Because I love you…” He whispers, tilting her head to look him in the eye properly before he kneels to the ground and pulls out a small ring, fit for her finger. “And I want to spend the rest of my life with you, Allison Argent… the most beautiful girl in the world. Are you willing to spend the rest of your life with me?”

Allison is breathless, tears pooling in her eyes and she’s choked up as she nods feverishly, trying to say something but she can’t, she’s beaming and tears are spilling from her eyes. 

“Allison…?” Scott whispers and she throws herself off the couch into his arms.

“Of course, of course! I’ve never been this happy!” She cries, sobbing into his arms as she clutches him, sobbing softly into his shoulder. “I love you too.”

 

The dinner back at the stilinski house is something that goes over… interestingly. The four of them are sat mostly in silence, picking at food and trying to get through. Small talk ensues but not much more. Natalie leaves soon and Stiles and Lydia are hand in hand as they walk her out. Lydia is leaning on him emotionally and he knows that. Once she’s gone, she turns to him with big green eyes and she looks conflicted before shes moving to hug him and starts sobbing softly in his chest.

“Lydia? Lydia, what on earth is the matter with you, love?”

“I don’t know! I feel so guilty… she feels like a stranger! What do I do? What do I do?”

“You let it heal with time and perhaps visit more often. It’s not your fault.”

“It is! I ruin everything, she hates me. She must!”

“Lydia, nobody hates you- especially not your mother who made an effort to be here. She just wants to fix what she broke. It’s alright. You’re not guilty,  _ you’re not guilty. _ ”

Mari approaches from the Parlor to see what’s going on and Stiles gives her a look to back off, she retreats back with the rest of his cousins and possibly others in the parlor. He doesn’t know where the rest of his giant family is, they seemed to all have disappeared and not that he cares, easier on him, who cares not to see anybody anymore. This house really was starting to stop feeling like a home. It never felt the same anymore, not really. And he thinks maybe he just needs a break or maybe he just needs everybody to leave. He hates the idea that Greg is probably screwing his aunt into tomorrow morning somewhere upstairs, and that his uncle is probably kissing up one of the foolish maids of the house. He hates to think that Boyd is probably suffering ridicule from his family and T’any is probably slaving to no release. And he doesn’t really know where his father is off to, he hopes whatever it is doesn’t break his mother's heart. He just wants a moments peace and even then, his own chest restricts but he refrains. 

Lydia notices the shift in his heartbeat, how rapid its becoming and she looks up and he seems a bit distant. “Stiles?” she mumbles and his heart's pounding flutters to a soft stop as he looks down at her, her body washes in relief knowing that she’s calmed him down. “What are you thinking about?”

“How I just want to leave.”

“Leave? You want to go for a walk or something-?”

“No Lydia… Like I want to  _ leave.  _ I want to kick the stands and get out of here. I just… i feel suffocated here.”

“We’ll have time to breathe on our honeymoon. I don’t think you want to leave… not forever. You just want a break.”

“Yeah… yeah that’s all,” he whispers and she nods, leaning up to kiss him and he kisses back, his hand falling to the back of her head, under her bun and she wraps her arms around his neck, pulling herself flush to his body. They kiss and they kiss and they kiss until there’s no air to give between them and even then there’s nothing to relent. Her lips feel purple and his hands are so warm, she feels as if it’s a summer's day. She wants to kiss him forever. She doesn’t want to leave him, she doesn’t think she can stand to breathe air that isn’t his. But he pulls away and she feels disappointed.

“I love you, Lydia Martin.”

“I love you too.”


	39. Chapter 35

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Waited 4 U (odesza remix) . mp3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY LETS BE REAL i feel like I've been MIA for a month but it's only been like a day?? Anyways this week is my last week of school and I've been testing so it's like, tears, studying, fasting, signing up to work soon, summer work. It's gonna be a good time. BUT I will be in the swing of things v soon, hopefully. SO enjoy this

Lydia swore it couldn’t have been a dream- it had felt so realistic that the reality of it was disappointing. Sure her wedding was in less than a week but it wasn’t the day of the wedding that captured her mind, rather the wedding night in her new bedroom that seemed to take over her mind. She’d been in the bedroom twice, just check how things were going on the decorating of the room, but the final product seemed to take an image her mind alongside Stiles handing it to her until she’s screaming and clawing at his back, red marks drawn on by her fingernails. Her body still feels orgasmic, she can feel her folds pulsing with thrill and need, she’s panting. She can’t grasp the concept that it was all just a dream, she wonders how it could feel so real to her…

It isn’t long before she falls back asleep, though the next morning she comes downstairs and she bumps smack into none other than Stiles, her stomach lurches and she has a specific attention to his every detail. She’s drawn to it and she wants to kiss him, she wants to jump his bones for the good lord’s sake. 

“Lydia?” Stiles prods, nudging her. “Lydia I said good morning.”

“Hm? Oh… Uh good morning. Has anybody told you that you look so fresh this morning?”

“I look fresh?” he laughs in a sort of way.

“You do… I ought’a say you’ve never looked so dapper before.” Her voice drops a few octaves and she’s leaning in a bit closer. He’s watching with interest, unsure of what to expect of her. 

“Lydia what are you on about?”

“Nothing, you just look very nice.”

He notices her eyes flick to his lip then down his neck and he’s a bit tense, they haven’t exactly been messing around in a long while and he doesn’t like where this going… She takes his hand and tugs him towards the stairs. “Where are we going?” He asks and she shrugs.

“The library. I want to spend some time with you before anybody really wakes up.”

“And that’s all?” 

He doesn’t think she’s on about what they’d be on about before, he could see it in her eyes she wanted  _ more  _ than immature touches under covers. He didn’t think he could deliver, not when their wedding was only a few days away. She doesn’t answer his question, just takes him upstairs and shuts the library door behind her. 

“Lydia-”

He barely chokes out her name before shes pulling him into a languid kiss and he melts straight into her- he practically forgets his protests against this and where it could be going. He wraps his arm around her waist and her tongue prods at his lips before he could prod at her, their tongues gently meeting between two lips, teeth gently scraping at lips and her one hand ends up in his hair. She thinks that she has him hooked, her plan is falling perfectly into place, though she’s kind of antsy and nervous. What if he doesn’t like what he sees? Lydia’s afraid that maybe this won’t work out or it wouldn’t feel as good as she wanted it too- was she denying him that right to her body if she did? 

It was her obligation to have sex with him, to give him children but then she thinks that she doesn’t owe him anything… but a good wife owes her man everything. (at least, so society rules.) Lydia blocks this out though and pulls him down to the couch with her where she starts to tug at his vest, though Stiles moves her hand away from him and moves to pin them to the couch; she whimpers against his lips, feeling denied of  _ her  _ right to his body. Stiles parts and he meets her sultry green eyes.

“You can’t wait three more days?”

“You haven’t been serving optimal attention.”

“If I had been, we’d be in the biggest of trouble, scandals of the year.”

“I’m needy. I was  _ dreaming  _ about you, that’s not fair.”

“You were ‘dreaming’ about me?’” he teases and she pouts.

“Not like that! Like actually dreaming. You’re not allowed to give me orgasms I can’t control.”

“When did I do that? When you were ‘dreaming’ last night?”

“Stop, I was not-”

“I’m just teasing,” he mumbles, kissing her cheek gently. “Lydia the wedding is in four days. You can suffice to wait, can’t’ch’ya? Just four days and then I’ll do whatever pleases you without any concern of our reputations or faith or anything. We’ll be just fine in the scheme of things. I promise ya that.”

“You can’t even provide me a little friction?”

“Not in your wildest dreams Martin.”

“In four days I’ll be a Stilinski, you know.”

“In four days, it’s not March 16th, you’re not my wife until sometime that morning.”

“What a catch I’ve been set up with. Really, a romantic.”

“All you could ask for and more.”

She rolls her eyes and tugs him down for another kiss, just as passionate and steamy, and though nothing gets done to ease the heat between her legs, she does get the satisfaction to know she’s made him equally desperate, at least for that morning, for their wedding night. She’s victorious in that sense. 

  
  


Three days later, the sun bursts in shining brightly. March 14, 1859 and Lydia Martin was finally nineteen. She wakes up and beams, a child like feeling welling up in her stomach. She half expected her mother to burst in with a cake and her father a present but the feeling died down when she remembered she wasn’t at home and wasn’t in the north anymore. She wonders if anybody here even remembered her birthday, especially in light of her wedding in two days. She reaches over and she tugs on the rope to call for her maid. She’s left waiting on her back, as a knock sounds on her door and she peeks up. 

“Who is it?”

“You’re lovely fiance,” she hears from the other end and grins.

“Come in!” 

The door opens and Stiles enters, already dressed for his day, hair slicked back and he’s holding something. He sits on the edge of her bed and leans over to kiss her head. “Happy birthday Miss Martin, how’s it feel to finally be nineteen?” 

“Same as it felt to be eighteen yesterday, just a little brighter.”

Stiles kind of chuckles, leaning on his elbow beside her before he’s handing her what’s in his 

hand. “I got you something, it’s not overtly special or anything, but I thought it would be a nice gift to give.”

“What is it?”

“Well that would ruin the surprise, now wouldn’t it?”

She laughs and she undoes the paper on the medium sized box and inside the paper is another box, a paper box that was decorated with prints of children laughs and running around. She raises an eyebrow before opening the box and pulling out the content inside. In there was a marble and stone carousel with different animals on it, and on the elephant was a red headed girl that looked a lot like herself. There was even a little wind on the side, it played music, she found as she wound it up; she looked awed, as if absolutely in love with the little thing.

“I know it’s not the exact color of your hair and it’s not really… much but I figured you might like the wedding gift more and-”

“Stiles it’s  _ beautiful.  _ You always feel the need to outdo yourself, don’t you? It’s incredible, I love it. Really I do,” she says as Jennifer walks into the room with a tray.

“Good morning M’lady- oh, Your lordship, I didn’t know you were in here! My greatest apologies-”

“Oh don’t fret it.”

“What’s all that?” Lydia asks.

“Breakfast in bed for the birthday girl, of course. T’any made it special,” she says, setting it down as Stiles adjusts to give Lydia space and Lydia puts her birthday gift aside. Lydia beams, the tray full of raspberry and white chocolate pancakes, hash browns, a cup of sweet smelling coffee with a dollop of whip cream on the top. There was a small vase of flowers, and even a chocolate bar. A little note that said  _ ‘for all your hard work attempting to make things in the kitchen, Love, T’any’  _

“I ought’a go down to breakfast myself, alright?” Stiles tells her, Lydia looking over to him with slight disappointment but she knew he couldn’t stay. “I’ll see you after and we can go check up on the church, a’right?”

“Sure thing.” She nods and digs her fork into the pancakes, receiving a quick peck to the cheek before he left, smiling to herself as he left. “Miss Blake, get out my teal dress.”

“Course M’lady.”

 

Lydia comes down once she’s done with breakfast, Claudia greeting her as she enters the drawing room. “Lydia! Oh I’ve arranged all for a birthday celebration later tonight. Just for the family of course but T’any’s makin you the chicken stuffed with cornbread that you like so much. And Charolette is makin you a cake-” 

“That’s all unnecessary, I really don’t need any of it,” she insists but Claudia shakes her head.

“Nonsense, you’re part of the family Lydia. It’s required of us.”

“Oh nothing is required of you, I’m not even-”

“Don’t start, it’s all been arranged now. There ain’t a chance to turn back.”

“Of course there isn’t,” she mumbles but smiles at her. “Mama and papa never did this much for me, I guess I just don’t expect it.”

“It really isn’t much. Besides, you’ll have a ball. Are you and Stiles going out today? He mentioned something about seeing the church for the arrangements.”

“Yeah, we were just going to head down there, he said after breakfast. Have you seen him?” 

“Last I saw him was breakfast. But I’m sure he’s on his way over, no worries dear.”

Lydia nods and goes to sit with Kasia, who’s sitting alone sipping tea. Stiles makes his way over not long after, entering the room with one of his cousins. She leans against the couch, watching him with dazzling green eyes and she sort of years to reach for him, to walk over and kiss him with a passioned flavor to it, pull him off into a room and have him for herself. Buts he knows better.  _ Two days and he’s all yours Lydia.  _ Two days… time couldn’t be ticking any slower, it feels like years away yet it was all coming up so fast. She just wants to be with him, she just wants to be his officially. She wants to be Lady Lydia Stilinski for good, it seems for too long she’s been Lydia Martin, Stiles Fiancee, and she thinks that if their wedding- like originally planned- would have been in June or July, she’d have lost her goddamn mind. There was no way she could wait that long. The more she saw him, the more she yearned to love him freely. She couldn’t even walk up to him in a room full of people like this, just to say good morning. They’d all place assumptions and spread rumors about them. 

She would just have to wait until he noticed her and approached her. “What are you thinking about?” Kasia finally asks.

“How much I love him,” Lydia admits airly and the woman laughs softly.

“How sweet. The day is almost here- are you ready for that kind of thing?”

“Being married? Of course… It’s not… well it’s not bad is it?”

“Bad? Oh heavens no. Some women might tell you it is and that children will ruin your relationship but believe me, if you love him, nothing can ruin what you have. Life will be hard sometimes but in the end… love truly does conquer all else.”

Lydia nods and she smiles softly. “That’s good to know… he loves me too. He doesn’t like to talk about it… or admit it really, but he returns my affections.”

“How’d you coax it out of him?”

“I didn’t… One night we were readin on the balcony and all of a sudden he dies down and ends on a page, and I told him that I wanted nothing more than to be with him, and he said he’d been thinking the same- I said I was confused and he went into this whole thing about how he can’t see his life with another woman. That it was only me and he loved me.”

“That boys heart is as big as the lords. He’s so thoughtful when he opens up, and to think the world has forced him to be cold. What a waste of a good heart. And such a shame.”

Lydia nods and she sighs slightly, thinking on what his grandmother had said, looking back at him. He was so happy, his smile was brighter than the sunlight pouring in the room. She wants to pull him over and kiss the dimples in his cheeks, she wants to hold him and hear his laugh as she hugs him and whispers to him- she thinks that it’s such a change than the lust she felt just two days ago. 

Stiles sees her staring and shoots her a smile before excusing himself. “Would you want to leave soon?” He asks and offers his hand to help her stand. 

“Whenever you’re ready,” she breathes out and he nods, eyes meeting hers, the two stuck in their own world for a second, a genuine smile taking over her features. He thinks it looks raw and she looks beautiful, just standing there in the light of the room.

“We could go now.”

“Now would be fine.”

“We should go…”

“Whenever you want to go..”

He nods and he nods his head towards the door, it feels almost sinful to pull away from her like this but he does it anyways and leads her towards the foyer, the two lacing hands once out of sight from everybody. 

“I’m having such a wonderful birthday,” Lydia tells him.

“You are? I’m so glad. I was hoping the wedding wouldn’t interject too much. Otherwise, we’d have thrown you such a grand party.”

“You’re all too much. My parents never threw me parties- I planned them all myself.”

“Why?”

“They thought it was silly.”

“Parties aren’t silly. They’re fun and really quite nice.”

“Well right now the only party I want is our wedding party.”

“Such a romantic.”

“It’s true… Don’t you want to be married to me?”

He visibly softens a bit and smiles slightly for her. “Of course I do, Lydia. Don’t ever doubt how lucky I feel to have been matched up with a girl like you. Honestly… I never thought we’d work out and yet… never done seen a girl like you.”

“Is that a good thing?”

“The best, ,really.”

“Such a romantic.”

He scoffs and they’re already starting to walk towards the church. She thinks that he likes to walk places and she figures that she doesn’t mind so much- this wasn’t so bad. Time alone well needed. Any time alone, was time alone that they needed. But this was more, it was special to her because for once, it truly felt like everything, her entire life, was truly around the corner and that until this moment, until two days from now, she’d been stuck in a waiting room playing a game, crossing words out in magazines while she awaits her prince to arrive. 

He arrived so subtly, that sometimes she believed she was still waiting but looking at Stiles now, she thinks that there’s no more waiting to be done. Her life is beginning. 

 

They arrive to the church not long after and they walk in and everything is already starting to be set up. White columns are being put up around the alter for effect, a gold stand for the vows and the book to be placed on. Theres the tables on either side of it so they can sign their papers and officiate their marriage, legally and religiously. The pews were being wiped down, there were flowers upon flowers stacked, awaiting to be arranged. She’s breath taken- weddings in the north never seemed this grand.

“Wow…”

“Wait until it’s done… and all for us, can you imagine?” He says, equally star struck and she looks over and her heart sparks with a giddiness. He’s excited, he’s longing for this too and maybe he’d never told her before, he’d always seemed so disinterested planning but just like Lydia, Stiles felt the effects of it hitting him too. He had been seeking so long for somebody to accept him, being placed at tables of clientel to find the right match, as if he were the one picking the girls from waiting rooms into his own personal room that he had to wait in before returning them to their rooms. Left alone in his own to wait, and to hold back any urges, and to push away any girl that was too forward or smart or anything else. He wasn’t allowed to engage in any sexual feelings or desires, he wasn’t allowed to engage in any unadvised, private romantic advances and he wasn’t even allowed to look beyond the top 1% of wealth. The rich and beautiful always married the rich and beautiful. Lydia seemed to creep up on him with no intentions of doing so and he used to feel so utterly stupid for letting it happen- but she gave him something nobody or anything else had: freedom.

She let him feel like he could open himself up, that he could talk for hours, that he could explore the world and she would still stand beside him. She gave him something he never had and she offered him something nobody had ever offered him: her heart. It was such a fragile thing to have and he was almost afraid he’d shatter it- he never wanted to shatter her, the beautiful girl with strawberry blonde hair and a beautiful smile. He may tease her and poke fun at her, but he loved her, he truly, deeply loved her and he thought that nobody else to ever face this earth could have what they had- could have what he was giving her and it was the pieces of his own broken heart, in hopes that she could somehow put it back together, without rejection or disappointment. They were in this together and he loved her more than he loved anybody else. More than he loved anything else. She had done something for him that nobody else did and now as he stands her, looking at the seams of their wedding stitch together he feels the full force of that hit him, he wasn’t waiting anymore. He wasn’t waiting and neither was she. 

  
  


In the grand scheme of things, Allison was happy to have Scott, to be engaged to him but what he had said that night resonated with her. How he was giving up his entire life for her, and it made her feel guilty. She doesn’t know how to deal with that guilt pent up inside, that she’s made him give up his life for her.

“Mama,” she calls as she enters an open, boxed in balcony, surrounded by trees and green plants.

“Over here love!” Victoria calls and Allison ventures inside to find her mother leaning on a couch, reading a novel. “Allison, what’s the matter with you? You look so pale.”

“I… I just wanted to talk about something.”

Her mother moves so Allison can sit beside her and she does, facing her mother with pouty lips and watery eyes. “Oh darling, what’s bothering you?”

“Am I holding Scott back?”

“What on earth do you mean?”

“I mean… Scott told me that he was giving up everything he had, that his parents were kicking him out of the house if he married me, and… I feel so guilty mama! This is all my fault, he don’t deserve that! And now he don’t got nothin because he wanted to marry me.” 

Victoria softens and wipes her daughters tears. “Allison, straighten up, suck in your tears will you? Listen, if that boy didn’t want to give up his life, he damn well didn’t have to. He  **chose** to because you’re important to him. If he didn’t love you, if he didn’t want you, if his life was so important that he wanted to keep it- he wouldn’t have chose to give it up for you. Don’t you feel responsible for the decision another man made.”

“What if he leaves me? What if he can’t take it?”

“Then you find somebody better.”

“But… I don’t think I can.”

“You always can. You’re beautiful and strong and poised.”

Allison smiles brokenly before nodding and leaning her head on her mothers shoulder. “Thank you mama.”

“Anytime my love. Anytime.”

 

“I don’t know, all of a sudden, I had a rushing feeling my life was all in front of me,” Stiles tells Brett as Brett sets a bath for him. “As if I was finally free of chains or something… I don’t know how to describe, I’ve never done felt that way before. It was so… strange, you know? And you should have seen the look on her face, she felt it too. Like… we both were feeling the same thing at the same time, had the same kind of thought.”

“That’s… uhm… strange but I suppose it has sentiment.”

“No you don’t understand, it was like… it’s like we’re conencted or something. Like… like it was meant to be. You know?”

“I don’t, I really don’t, Stiles.”

Stiles sighs and he slumps into an arm chair, watching Brett fill the bath. He fiddles with his robe ties and smiles to himself. “I don’t think I’ll ever feel like this again, feel this happy.”

“I’m sure if she makes you this happy now, she’ll make you this happy later in life.”

“Thank you.”

“What?”

“Thank you. For… for that advice you gave me all those months ago. About choosing my happiness? I’d still hate her if you hadn’t told me that.”

“Do you really believe that?”

“I do.”

“Then I s’pose you’re welcome.” 

Stiles beams brightly and Brett thinks that he’s never been so happy for somebody, he hopes Stiles is always this happy. “Have you packed?” Stiles suddenly asks.

“What?”

“For the honeymoon? You and Lydia’s new maid Haden are coming along to dress us, remember? have you packed?”

“Not yet. I don’t know what to bring.”

“Oh we’ll work it all out later tonight.”

“Yeah… later tonight.”

  
  


Everything the rest of the day went by in a flourish and it was the next night that was genuinely agonizing. Lydia and Stiles had been separated, and they weren’t allowed to see each other until the next morning. It was bad luck if he saw his soon to be blushing bride before the morning of their wedding. Though he’s so anxious and he just wants to see her, just wants to give her a kiss good night. 

He can’t help it when he goes to knock at her door. 

“Who is it?” She calls.

“It’s Stiles,” he replies and she seems to have stopped at the door.

“You can’t see me, it’s bad luck.”

“I just wanted to say goodnight.”

“Oh it’s not the same if I can’t kiss you.”

“What if I didn’t look?”

“What do you mean?”

“I could close my eyes.”

“And kiss me goodnight blinded?”

“Yes but only if you promise to close your eyes too..”

He smiles because he can hear her giggle on the other side, and as the door cracks open, he shuts, his eyes and slips into the room with eyes shut, Lydia’s own eyes are shut. They have to reach and feel for each other, blind hands seeking the others body, as if making sure it was them and they lean up but are hesitant.

“No cheating,” she whispers.

“Trust me… I’m taking no chances,” he mumbles and the warmth of his breath guides her to his lips and they lean into each other and press a brief kiss to the others lips, totally and completely in love for just a moment. They part and they can both tell the other is smiling.

“I’ll see you tomorrow down the aisle.”

“And oh what a day that will be.” 

Her eyes peek open and she smiles softly. 

“Truly, what a day.”

Lydia pushes him out and shuts her door, Stiles sneaks to his room unseen and he wishes he could see the smile on her face, before bed he prays for at least an hour that their marriage is blessed and pure and free of any problem. Lydia does the same, along with her three favorites. To please him, to love him, to be loved. 


	40. Chapter 36

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All Night . mp3  
> Young and beautiful . mp3  
> No one else . mp3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well I did so much research regarding the wedding and I found out some really interesting things! Like they had all these superstitions about marriage and the day or the month you married, the colors the brides and the maids wore and what they meant. I'll talk about it all right before chapter 40 in my history/research lesson!

**_{dress link: http://www.abc.net.au/news/image/5562328-3x2-940x627.jpg ,_ **  
**_hair link: https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/236x/cb/4a/cb/cb4acbb9bbd65a879f959585f49277ba.jpg_ **  
**_veil link: https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/236x/06/84/b4/0684b4e0882cf0d3b9f426d675721d91.jpg_ **  
**_Stiles suit: https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/236x/60/b4/3d/60b43d3e7e4ebf21101ef00a2a353558.jpg_ **  
**_Bridesmaid dress that inspired the look I wanted: https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/236x/f1/48/05/f148050c8ef8754d170e540982a7c022.jpg }_ **  


* * *

****

The white veil seemed to glitter with the embroidery that decorated it, falling perfectly over the off white dress and down to the floor on both sides of her head. The front was perched over a rose gold crown of flowers and leaves, shimmering with pink gems that accented it and her eyes dazzled. She wanted to cry, she had never felt this beautiful before and from Allison’s face, she wanted to cry too. The dress in itself was absolutely stunning. It was tugged at the sleeves to cause ripples and end just past the elbow, the bodice beautiful curved in with an x-shape of beads and pearls that shimmered in the light, and overlapping the right side was fluffed material. It bumped at her butt in the back and trailed down, to a thin form. She thought she’d never look or feel so beautiful again, she thinks that she’ll never feel so glamourous. It was unreal.

And she turns to find Claudia watching her with a soft smile and her face melts into her own and Lydia moves to hug Claudia who holds her. “We still need to give you your bouquet.”

“Oh I’ve never felt so happy in my life.”

“And may you live a bountiful one my dear,” she assures. “Married Wednesday, the best day of all- of course you’re bound to prosper and think of how happy you’ll be. And you’re thirty days of honeymoon will be in France. Isn’t that so?”

“Oh Stiles says he’s got it all worked out and that we’ll honeymoon in france than tour europe and stay in Italy for awhile. It’s going to be fine Mama,” Lydia assures and claudia nods, kissing her head over the veil.

“Alright we oughta to go, Allison do you have the flowers?”

“Yes of course,” Allison says, handing her the calla lily and camellia bouquet and Lydia accepts them, holding them under the veil. Karen walks in, the two girls in their bridesmaids gowns, which were puffy blue dresses with white flowers on them and no sleeves at all, their shoulders bared but white sashes draped over them. They looked beautiful with their hair pulled back in gentle braided buns, Lydia’s own long, red hair was pulled in different loops and curved in stylishly at the front, all her long hair tucked in and short and ending above the nape of her neck, her lips were even painted a darker red color and her nails were a pearl white that shimmered when under sunlight.

Karen and Allison walk down with Elizabeth darcy, Lydia trailing behind her, John and Kasper turning to see their future daughter in law with their bridesmaid and their breaths caught. She was _stunning._ The way she walked with such meek steps and her gentle smile, doe green eyes and a glow about her- John that he’d never seen a woman so beautiful on her wedding day besides Claudia who looked something similar to his future daughter in law. Young and beautiful and so absolutely radiant like she’d never be again.

****

Stiles was nervous to say the least, he was almost afraid that Lydia might not show- even after all this time and the love he knew she held for him. He was terrified that everything would go to waste and that this would all collapse in on him, it was too good to be true. Though as his heart raced, it seemed Scott McCall (bless that boys heart) had insinuated on his fear and rested a gentle hand on his shoulder in reassurance.

“She’s gonna show, don’t worry.”

“He’s just nervous,” Isaac insists. “Every man has a right to be nervous on his wedding day, but no fear, good man, all should be well and prosper in beauty. It is a wednesday after all and-”

“Marriage on a Wednesday is marriage on the best day. I know,” Stiles assures. “Just… what if she changes her mind?”

“So last minute? Besides, you have a contract of arrangement. Don’t you?” Scott reminds him and it dawns on Stiles that their love was secondary to the marriage at hand- this wasn’t their choice to begin with and suddenly, he remembers how much resentment he’d felt for her and how much he wanted to back out and yet- he fell in love with her and he gave her this knock out of a proposal and it’s been months and he lives a daily life with her, a life he can’t see without her and it felt as if the whole thing really _was_ his choice- and now they had no backing out. Even if she hated him. Even if she didn’t want him anymore. Even if it had all gone to waste. They had no choice in the matter. It hits him hard that he really had no choice and it washes over him in relief that the choice of the matter had worked out so perfectly.

“Stiles are you alright?” Theo asks as he approaches them. “Sorry I’m late, there was some traffic outside with the camera people. Who’re here for the photographs and all? I had to help Brett keep them in place and set up where the photos outside the church will be taken.”

“I thought we were taking the photographs at home?”

“They want some in here and outside the church. They also want to catch Lydia coming down from the carriage.”

“How romantic,” Stiles cooes teasingly and Theo smiles at him.

“But really, are you doing a’right?”

“Yeah… I’m doing quite fine. Just… i guess i forget the whole thing was set up, you knew?”

“Isn’t that a good thing? You love her don’t you?”

“Always my voice of reason, Theo.”

“I haven’t reasoned with ya yet. Do you love her?”

“Of course.”

“Then it doesn’t matter.”

“I shall repeat, you’re always the voice of reason.”

“Of course, you’d lose your head if I weren’t,” Theo jokes and they both laugh. Theo was his best man and he was honored to be, he would do anything for his friend- his love for him always surmounted all else and if Stiles had genuinely found happiness in life, then nothing else genuinely mattered at all. It was all the matter that his love was happy.

“I heard you were going to honeymoon in France,” Scott says and Theo looks over.

“France?”

“Oh yes, I got us this private cabin in Province, way up in the mountains and all, and it looks over all these fields and even a little village. We’re only taking Brett and Miss Blake with us for dress and all. Then we’re going to honeymoon our thirty days in the cottage. The man I rented it from says it’ll be all prepared and stocked and everything once we get there. Even cleaned for us.”

“That’ll be so lovely,” Isaac says. “I wish I could afford to give Elizabeth something as nice as that.”

“And god bless you, one day you will. I promise.”

“Amen,” the three others mumble. The doors open and Stoker hobbles in.

“My boy! I can’t wait to see her. Come, let me set the table for the papers!” he takes Stiles by the arms and a joyful, watery expression takes over his features as he watches Stoker who looks him dead in the eye and whispers, “I’m so proud. I didn’t think I’d live to see you marry… now pray the good lord leaves me to see at least one of your children.”

“Bless, I do hope so, Stoker. I do hope so,” Stiles whispers. “I’ll be sure to pray for it.”

“Bless your heart, such a good man. She’ll be eternally happy beside you- I don’t think I’ve seen a woman so in love, well beside my own wife, may her good soul rest in peace. She’s with us today, and she’s just as proud.”

“I wish I’d known Mrs. Stoker, I bet she was a lovely woman.”

He laughs. “She was a plump woman but you never done seen a woman more beautiful. She wasn’t no thinned out girl like yours, she’s too thin.”

“We tried to plump her up and she’s gained some pounds I think but she likes how she looks and I accept that, she deserves to feel comfortable in herself.”

“Good man, very good man.” Stoker laughs and moves to set up the table with all their wedding papers. Two photographers moved inside and the other two waited outside, guests filing in, from her side and his. Kasper would be walking her down since her own father was in Jail and Stiles truly had tried to get him release just for today but they hadn’t allowed it. He wasn’t to be released and Stiles felt genuinely sorry. Lydia had promised him it was okay.

He anticipated the moment he got to see her, in her all wonder and glory and as the hall filled, the organ started to play pretty small tunes, the choir humming their tunes to prepare their voices. Stiles was terrified that any moment now and he’d wake up in bed and none of this was really happening, he wasn’t getting married. But not thirty minutes later did the doors open and his mother and Kasia filed in to sit, then the bridesmaids started to file in, the flower girls waiting at the door and he turned around, his heart fluttering with anticipation. The organ starts up with the wedding song and the choirs angelic voices rise as she walks down, and he can hear gasps of awe fill the room- he’s desperate to turn around, especially when Theo himself looks shocked with awe.

“She’s so beautiful,” he whispers. “Bet you wished you could see her.”

The priest approaches and stands before him, Lydia’s footsteps becoming slowly audible as she approaches him and he really does wish he could see her, he’s practically dying from not seeing her. He just wants to see what everybody else does- he thinks that he’ll see it in a better light because he loves her and she’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen and once she’s beside him, they’re instructed to turn around and Stiles practically chokes, his eyes filling with tears and Lydia beams, before she notices his his tears.

“You’re crying,” she whispers.

“You’re more beautiful than I’d ever imagined,” he whispers, lifting her veil from her front side and pushing it back over the crown, he wants to kiss her before he’s allowed to, he knows better though. Her hand delicately reaches up and wipes a tear that escapes.

“I love you,” she whispers but he has no time to reply because the priest clears his voice and gestures to the satin stool before them and they turn to kneel on it. The two side by side, his right hand holding hers as they do and they exchange the vows the priest instructs, repeating each word with careful precision. It’s intimate and soft. Their voices are hushed and they can’t believe this is really happening, as they hold the others hand.

_“Let us pray!”_

Stiles and Lydia don’t release hands as they bow their heads and whisper their prayers, their wishes of good fortune and love and the ability to please the other and prosperity with the other and the health of their children to be strong. Lydia squeezes his hand and he squeezes back, anybody who was watching close enough might have seen the subtle notion. Then they were advised to stand and face each other. Stiles and Lydia taking hands.

Then they continue with the vows. To have and to hold, to cherish and to love, in sickness and in health, until death do them part.

“I do,” Says Stiles. He takes the wedding band from the pillow Jack is holding and slides it onto her finger, over the engagement ring. She beams.

Then to have and to hold, to cherish and to love, in sickness and in health, until death do them part.

“I do,” Says Lydia. She takes the wedding band from the pillow Jack is holding and slides it onto his finger, she sees his lips tug into a gentle smile, her smile turns brighter and her teeth are showing. She’s never been this happy before.

“You may now kiss the bride,” the priest announces, and it was a gentle kiss, a chaste one and any children in the room might have gazed in wonder for it was the closest thing to romance they’d seen, others might whisper how innocent to the touch it was and others awed, while the rest who remained watched boredly whilst fanning themselves, awaiting the ceremony to be over and the breakfast reception to begin.

Their kiss was long enough that it was caught on camera, (and really it was the photographer's good timing), the two lingering in each other's arms, relief washing over them even as they parted.

“You’re finally mine,” Lydia whispered in awe before giggling as she noticed her lip rouge had smeared on his lip slightly, licking the pad of her thumb, she tried to wipe it away and he giggled.

“You can sign the papers now,” the priest advised. “When you’re ready,” he added and they looked up before nodding. Lydia and Stiles move to the table beside Stoker and Stiles has done this before, advised a wedding but Stoker did it most of the time. People appreciated an older figure at their weddings and he was honored that Stoker was there to officiate his marriage, it was only right that he did so. He dipped the quill in ink and handed the pen to Lydia for her to sign her papers first. She leans over and signs the marriage contract, then her name changing papers. Stiles watches with fleeting interest.

“You have a strange signature.”

“Pardon?”

“Your signature looks weird.”

“It does _not._ ”

“No really it does, it’s all angled,” he comments and points to it and Lydia huffs, looking to Stoker.

“Can I go back on the marriage?”

“The ink has dried, no turning back now,” he advises and she beams, turning to Stiles and handing him the pen, he dips the pen in the ink and signs his papers too. She thinks his signature is much nicer than decides it must be a lawyer thing. It looks too official to be anything else.

“We’re officially married.”

“We’ll have to break some champagne tonight,” he cooes and Lydia giggles, letting him kiss her fingers gently, his lips landing on the ring of her left hand.

“Amongst other things of course,” she tells him.

“Don’t make me blush, not here in front of other people.”

“I’m making you blush?” she teases and he smiles, his cheeks a slight pink and she runs the back of her knuckles along his soft cheek. She was so in love, and he was even more so. What a perfect two, and how they should prosper.

****

Lydia and Stiles were standing in front of the fireplace, holding each other by the arms, foreheads leaned together until the shutter of the camera went off and the man said it was okay to move. Then they were moved by the windows and repeated the process. She leaned with her back against his chest and his arms circled around her, and they waited, looking up at each other until their necks started to hurt a bit and he leaned down to whisper something, lips to the shell of her ear as the camera went off. Unintentionally perfect, and **SO** romantic.

Lydia giggles as she squeezes his wrist and turns to kiss him gently, the Camera shutter going off again. “I’m so happy,” she tells him.

“I’ve never been happier.”

“Were you truly crying because you thought I was beautiful?”

“Lydia… I still think I might burst into tears, you’re _stunning_. I’ve never been so awed in my life, it’s as if I’m staring at an angel.”

“I was afraid you’d hate it.”

“I could never hate you, no matter what the matter is.”

“You really are a romantic.”

“It’s something only you bring out of me…”

“I’m glad… I’m glad that I get to see you in the ways that nobody else can.”

“I trust you. I trust you with all my whole and separate parts alike.”

“And I trust you all the same.”

****

Once pictures were over, Stiles and Lydia were lead to the ballroom (since they felt no need to change) where they sat at a longer, horizontal table for themselves only, on grand, plush chairs and were sat beside each other. Before them were placed steak and eggs breakfast with hash browns. The cakes were to the side behind a flower centerpiece and Lydia peaks over. They had at least 300 guests at that moment and thankfully Stiles had gotten them a large, ornate 6 tier cake that had a large bottom shaped like a flower than the next five were round tiers with piping on the sides and flower piping with arches between leading the rest of the way up to a flower bouquet on the top. Then there was her cake, which was a pastel, fluorescent pink with two tiers and candy flowers on the visible side and the other she could just barely make out the brown cake that was his. The groom always had the darker cake.

“Are there charms inside?” She asks him and he looks over interested.

“Pardon?”

“Charms in the cake? Are there any?”

“Of course there are,” he cooes and she nods, picking at her food and he moves his fork to her plate, picks up some of her eggs and brings it to her lips to feed her and she accepts, letting his fork slip through her lips and warm scrambled eggs meet her mouth. In return, she feeds him from his hash browns, all so casual and loving. Everybody finds them to be endearing and so tender with each other - in a way nobody had seen Stiles before and could hardly accept this was the same man who would do anything to defend a client in court - like a couple should be but was so hard to find. Not many loved and those that did loved in secret or loved in small doses, these two loved always and loved strongly. Fiercely.

They continued this habit, of feeding each other their breakfast and whispering amongst each other. They were laughing amongst themselves and it was a world that only Stiles and Lydia knew. Caden, who sat on his mothers lap tugged her sleeve, curiously looking to her.

“What are they talking about?”

“I don’t know.”

“Why are they sitting alone momma?”

“Because they’re newly weds, it’s best that they be alone.”

“Why?”

“It just is.”

“For bonding?” Jack inserts and Claudia laughs.

“Something like that, sure.”

“We’re still staying with nana and papa when Stiles leaves, right?” Jack asks and Claudia nods.

“Indeed you are.”

Looking over, Stiles is leaning over to Lydia, whispering in her ear. She’s smiling softly in return, lacing their hands as they’re propped up between them on the chair.

“I didn’t know that,” she tells him. “Where did you learn that?”

“A copy of some ancient book that I found. But it was so crazy, like people don’t tell you those kind of things, you know? That like… there’s all these stories and tell tales that had never been told before because they’re ungodly.”

“It’s a gift that you’re so smart, I’ve never met somebody as smart as you.”

“I’ve never met somebody who could keep up with me… who could understand all these random whims that I have.”

“Well I think they’re very attractive and very intelligent. I love your whims.”

“Oh?”

“They fascinate me.”

“I’m glad that they do.”

She smiles and leans over to kiss the corner of his mouth, and he kisses her nose, their lips tugging into bright smiles, hands laced. “Shall we dance? I’m getting antsy from being stiff so long?”

“Of course…” she whispers and they stand to move to the dance floor, the conductor noticing and starting a slow song for them, others noticing and moving to line the dance floor to watch their first dance ensue.

Stiles and Lydia enter a slow waltz that slowly picks up speed. They start with a sway, back and forth with the motions. She twirls and they meet hands, her knuckles gently brush the side of his face and they smile before he moves so they’re at arms length and they circle before he dips her in a twirl and they start to pick up their pace. The movements of the waltz becoming more practiced and more elated than loving. They’re having fun, laughing together as he sweeps her off her feet across the dance floor. And the crowd ‘oo’s and ‘aahh’s when he lifts her and twirls her in the air.

Then others are joining them and the ball takes off. The party doesn’t even end until after supper at 4.30, that’s when people really start to leave and others start to file into the drawing room. Lydia is exhausted and she’s sweating from dancing so much, she could see the same for Stiles and he approaches her from the other side of the room where he’d been swept away by a girl, takes his clean pocket hanky and dabs the sweat from her brow, the bow of her lip, and along her nose. Lydia giggles, folds the hanky to the clean side then leans up on her toes to do the same and he smiles.

“It’s true, wednesday is the best day.”

“Would it be any different on another day?”

“I don’t really know,” he admits to her. “But I’m glad it’s today. I don’t even believe it’s real.”

“And neither I,” she whispers, and moves to hug him, Stiles accepts her, holding her close. “I just want to go lay down with you.”

“I could sleep for days,” he agrees and she grins, tilting her head up along his chest and kisses his exposed neck gently and his eyes close, blissed by her simple touch. “I could also think of another thing I’d like to do.”

“You’re thinking of it too.”

“Of course.”

“I’m not the only one.”

“You’re witchiness has grown on me.”

“We’re married now. It’s no tom foolery.”

“You’re starting to sound very southern, have you noticed?”

“No… I really haven’t. I don’t think I do.”

“It’s no tom foolery,” he mimics her in a higher pitched, nasally voice and she pouts.

“I do not sound like that!”

“Oh but you do my love, you really do.”

“I do not!”

“Mmmhm.”

“So mean,” she pouts.

“Not mean, just truthful. Don’t you appreciate the truth?”

“I appreciate a lot of things but your teasing is not one of them.”

“It’s truth.”

“Teasing.”

“Truth.”

“Liar.”

He sticks his tongue out at her childishly and she sticks hers out back before her lips curl into a pout and hide in his chest. His mother sees and smiles as she hugs Caden to her chest, John used to make her feel young like that- but it didn’t last, certainly not long. She and John were rushed at the first opportunity, married a month after they met. By the time they’d known each other as long as Stiles and Lydia had, the love had faded into routine. It wasn’t fresh like those two, it wasn’t close to what they had. She hoped her son could hold it out because what he had was something special, what he had was greater than love, greater than marriage, greater than anything. What he had was his soulmate. His soulmate for life, his one and only.

****

Lydia is sat beside Allison, resting her head. She doesn’t like being apart from Stiles, especially now that it’s veering nine o’clock and it’s dark out but she deals with it and rests on Allison. She’s in total bliss, tranquil  with the prospects presented to her. Lydia plays with Allison’s fingers and looks up at her.

“I’ll miss you when I’m gone, Ally.”

“I’ll miss you too, Lydia. But you’ll have the best time. Promise me you’ll write?”

“Oh I promise. I’ll write to you about everything.”

“Even the sex?”

“Even the sex.”

They giggle and lean into each other, Lydia squeezing her arm gently before she’s interupted by Kasia. “I think it’s time we get you ready for bed. We want you to look good for your husband.”

Lydia’s heart flutters at the idea of ‘looking good’ for Stiles, thinking that maybe he wouldn’t like how she looked in whatever it was but then thought that really there was no chance of that. That if he cried seeing her in a white dress, he’d be more than aroused at the sight of her prepared body. She nods almost bashfully as she stands to follow Kasia to her new dressing room. There Miss Blake and Claudia are waiting. They strip her of all her clothes, leaving her bare in the cool night, her arms folding over her bare breasts as she shivers.

“It’s cold,” Lydia notes and Claudia giggles.

“Oh you’ll be okay soon,” she tells her daughter-in-law, opening a box and pulling out a vile with a yellow substance inside. “It’s Jasmine oil, smells heavenly and makes you softer,” she tells Lydia, popping the cork to let her smell and Lydia melts at the heavenly smell, nodding her head in agreement. Claudia laughs and spreads some on her hand, Lydia getting coated with the oil and she doesn’t glow, nor is she slippery, the oil is saturated into her skin, making her look more supple and her skin more soft, it even pinkins her nipples a bit. They then slip her into blue lace panties that are otherwise see-through and put her in a white, transparent robe that had white fur on the ends of the sleeves and on the bottom of the robe, it was tightened so her breasts pressed to the fishnet material, and the ladies left her to exit into the bedroom when she was ready.

It took her five minutes to completely compose herself before exiting into the room, finding Stiles was entering their new bedroom too, and his eyes meet her body and she’s almost insecure as she feels his eyes trail down her body, though she meets him halfway and he gently takes her by the arms.

“You look beautiful,” he whispers and she looks up at him with a smile.

“And you’re handsome as ever,” she replies, brushing his curls back. “I like your natural hair. It’s so soft and cute looking on you.”

He laughs at that and kisses her, and she pulls herself flush to his body, her arms dangling around his neck, her right hand fisted into his hair. Their kisses slow and passionate and full of something they’d never felt before yet had always felt. His one hand finds purchase on her breast, the other on her thigh, drawing it closer to his clothed crotch, her own flush to his and they’re grinding softly against each other- he thinks her moan is the sweetest thing in the world.

“Bed…?” he mumbles stupidly and she giggles, nodding. Parting they move to the canopy bed, and he’s a step behind her, watching her crawl onto the bed languidly and gracefully press herself against the pillows, propped up sexily and she watches him with playful eyes, though she’s smiling. He thinks she’s ridiculous, but he smiles and reciprocates her actions, crawling between her legs and meeting her in a kiss, their tongues brushing just barely as their lips meeting in parting. Her hands tug at his clothes and this time he lets them peel off, although she notes it’s hesitant when he does, and she presumes that he might be afraid.

“We don’t have to do this now,” she whispers.

“I want to,” he tells her and she smiles, kissing him slowly, his lips melting against hers; Lydia allows herself to peak her eyes open and his facial expression is contemplative, brows furrowed as if focused on her completely and his lips are pursed against hers. She’s never felt so valued before. His hands trail her body delicately and she slowly peels him of his pajamas to do the same, trailing over his bare skin, hands running over his throbbing cock, just feeling the heat press between her fingers. His gasp is the most exciting thing she’s ever heard.

Stiles slowly undoes the robe and let’s it fall open, though neither of them bother to fully remove it, her legs spreading open for him, and she’s leaking before he’s even touched her. She just wants _him_ and nothing else. Even when his fingers ghost her entrance, she stops him and shakes her head, eyes closed and lips parted.

“I don’t need the foreplay.”

“Are you sure?”

“You’re a sinful grinder.”

He grins and kisses her jaw. “Fair enough, my dear.”

She smiles blissfully and their lips meeting, his tip tracing her seam as he tries to find her entrance (So it’s been quite the while for both of them) before finding her hole and he teases her for a moment, lightly ghosting his tip before pulling away and she whimpers. “Stiles _please,_ ” she gives in around the third time, and it’s so ridiculous sounding yet so very intimate and secret between them that they didn’t mind so much, but he gives in to her and finally pushes in, both of their mouths dropping into blissful ‘o’ shapes, eyes shut and foreheads pressed together. He can’t fathom to do anything to her body that’s hard, not in that moment, so he slowly presses in a few inches and rocks slowly, and gradually deepens his movements with time until they’re both of the precipice of release, and rocking becomes thrusting, and soft moans become desperate cries of need- her nails dig into his back as he releases into her, and she’s not long after him, the two collapsing like stars against the bed.

His head rests on her shoulders, their legs entwined, and they’re glowing. Beaming, kissing slowly and passionately, and just holding onto each other- for the sake of holding onto each other and they really don’t want to let go.

“I want to be this happy the rest of my life.”

“We can only hope, my love.”


	41. Chapter 37

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> young (zimmer remix) . mp3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> these two losers tho   
> ALSO I think it's absolutely crazy that this story is special to some of you or something somebody loved so much they binge read it in like hours. I honestly get so flattered that so many people that read this tell me it's the best that they've read- I think that's amazing! I'm just a girl that loves to write and if you guys like what I write, I guess that's the bonus. KISSES AME

Lydia’s leg was pressed up near her chest, her head tilted back to allow his lips a place to kiss and she’s clawing his back, her other leg fallen to the side as he thrusts deep inside her. “Oh  _ Stiles. _ ” She moans his name as if it were something holy, her right hand trailing into his hair, and she thinks that by now her nail polish must be chipping, she finds that she doesn’t even really care if it is. 

Stiles bites a mark into her collar and she gasps, hips stuttering upwards, his hand slipping a bit and he almost slips on top of her- the two pausing in their ministrations to get themselves together again, beaming at the other. “Clumsy,” she teases, breathless and he laughs.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, kissing the crown of her head softly as he pushes back into her and she smiles in the wake of her pleasure, she notices he has a similar smile on his features, head dipping to kiss at her neck (god did he love her neck), and she rocks her hips slightly, signaling him to move and he does- he pulls out before slamming back in and her back arches, crying out as she arches into him, her leg moving to wrap around his torso. 

Stiles is relatively quieter than she, though she finds it endearing all the same- his soft moans and the low curses are nothing less than a turn on and nothing more than straight up sexy. His teeth gently bite at her neck, a fresh patch of skin, and she shudders visibly beneath him. 

“Does it hurt?” He asks, his hips rolling into her and she shakes her head.

“Not at all, you’re just-” she moans. “So  _ good.”  _ It almost felt like an instinct, she couldn’t comprehend much else, leaving her unknowing of what to say to him. Her hands card through his hair and she can feel his victorious smirk against her skin, his hips stuttering, as his thrusts become almost sloppy and she feels like she might lose her mind from pleasure, her body tensing and releasing before he reached his peak, and he rides out her orgasm, thrusting in just a few more times as she comes down before pulling out to release, some of his sperm ending up on the side of Lydia’s thigh, Lydia watching him contentedly before he collapsed on the bed beside her, Lydia turning to curve her body over his and hold him. Her own lips traced his neck, kissing along his white skin, lips dragging slightly as she traces the curve of his neck.

“Stay in bed all day?” he offers.

“Only if we can go out later tonight.”

“Where do you want to go?”

“Dancing… in one of those bridge clubs, where you and your friends always go.”

“Sure I’ll take you dancing,” he whispers, beaming and kissing her head, Lydia giggling. 

“Won’t they wonder about us?”

“Let them wonder. They’ll think we’re making love in bed all day or somethin.”

“I don’t mind that idea,” she points out and he smiles, eyes drooping shut.

“Maybe when we’re in France and unlikely to be disturbed.”

“As if to say we’ll be disturbed today?”

“Naturally, somebody ought’a barge in lookin for us. You know how my family is.”

“I s’pose you’re right,” she mumbles, rubbing his smooth chest, kissing at his neck gently. Stiles smiles as he curls into her. “Think we can go out to the bookstore?”

“If it ain’t closed, we can check later.”

“Good. We need a new book.”

“Or six.”

“Or six, naturally six.”

They giggle and Lydia shuts her eyes, inhaling the smell of his skin, scented with sweat and sex, and something that was just so naturally him. Everytime she breathes she’s hit with the smell of his skin and it’s not a  _ bad  _ scent, she wants to remember it. Like she might not ever get to sleep this close to him again- as if it were a cruel joke and they’ll be torn from each other in a moment's time. Glancing up, she notices Stiles is long asleep and that his mouth hangs open slightly and his nose is pressed into the pillow, she smiles and contentedly falls asleep. 

 

It was around 12.15 that Brett and Miss Blake enter the room with trays of food, Boyd setting up a table with a cloth on one end of the room. Placing on the table their leftover wedding cakes, both hers and Stiles (which hadn’t been open due to a lack of care or time, everybody else took cake home), cookies, warm cornbread, butter, toast, plum pudding, and raspberry tarts. The two are sleeping behind the curtains of their canopy bed, or so they assume, considering the lack of noise or movement in the bed. Neither bother to peek in on them to make sure. Two footmen come in with a coffee pot and a teapot, also water and iced tea then set it down on the table. Then the party leaves and shuts the door behind them. 

 

Claudia is sitting by her lemon tree with Caden who’s holding one of the bunnies, a smaller bunny that can fit in his little arms. She’s petting his hair softly and singing to him, Caddy petting the bunnies hair. “Momma look, she has a spot,” he tells her, showing her the spot and his mother looks over and smiles.

“Well would ya look at that, he sure does.”

“The others don’t have spots.”

“That makes him special.”

“He’s my favorite.”

“Does he have a name?”

“No.”

“Well you should name him.”

“Uhhhmm,” Caden says, looking up in thought. “I’m going to name him George.”

“George? Why George?”

Caddy shrugs and lets the bunny sit on the ground, the little animals hopping around a bit before returning to rest by Caddy’s legs. He had a ribbon around his neck- rose colored just like Allison had promised. He giggles before frowning as his light is blocked off by John approaching, Claudia rolling her eyes and tilting her hat down, she submerges herself in her book.

“I know you saw me Claudia,” he says and she pretends she doesn’t hear him. He steps around Caddy and goes to sit beside his wife who cold shoulders him. “Listen I’m sorry-”

“If you were sorry you wouldn’t have done it.”

“It was a month ago, I was-”

“He’s twenty years old, he can take care of himself.”

“Claudia-”

“I don’t want to hear it. I don’t.”

“Just listen to me!”

“Why? You don’t listen to  _ me.  _ I ain’t worth a penny of your time and you’re all the same to me.”

“What are you talking about? Of course you are! Claudia, please.”

“Save it. Your actions speak louder than your words.” 

“I just want to fix things.”

“Then find a way to fix them. Talking to me isn’t going to do anything.”

 

Inside the Argent household, Allison was starting to fret about her own wedding. When it would be, how long they’d wait, if they’d make it before or after Stiles returned. She needed to plan it to the very detail, and not like she didn’t have practice, Lydia’s wedding served for practice enough. She doesn’t even know where to start, sitting there with her mother with a notebook in her hands, a pencil in the other.

“I don’t know what I want… or where to start. It was easy doin Lydia’s because… that’s wasn’t my weddin but… I don’t know how to do this.”

“Sure you do. Start with a month.”

“June.”

“This June or next?”

“Next… I want Stiles and Lydia to be there. I can’t have my wedding without my brother.”

“You’re right. Alright, then it’ll be next June. What colors do you want?”

“Perhaps pink?”

“Pink of you he’ll always think.”

Allison giggled. “He does think of me, always.”

 

Stiles and Lydia don’t wake up until it's 4 PM in the afternoon, the scent of the food on the table wafting through the room. Stiles stretches up, practically off the bed, before collapsing and curling up into Lydia’s side, Lydia blinking before wrapping her arms around his head, hugging him to her body. “You smell bread too, right?” Lydia asks and Stiles nods. “Think they left us something to eat?”

“At what point do you think they figured out we’re not leaving the room?”

“S’a good question.”

“Yeah? Since when does ‘s’a’ enter your vocabulary? It’s painful to listen to.” He thought her southern dialect was cute. She didn’t have to know that though. 

“It’s not that bad.”

“It scares me a little, it really does.”

Lydia giggles and grabs the robe from where it’d fallen on the floor, pulling in on before pulling back the draperies, tying them to their posts. She stretches in such a lazy kind of way, her shoulders sloping back, arms curving in, muscles contract, hair dancing down her back and she’s so beautiful- he thinks that he’s never felt so lucky than to have a girl like her. A beautiful, lovely girl like her. He doesn’t think he deserves her, he doesn’t deserve her in the least because Stiles found that he was ingenuine, that he wasn’t a good person, that he could brutal and cold and careless and heartless and broken. But Lydia was all the opposite. She was sensational, beautiful, warm, with a big heart and so put together- they were polar opposites. 

He can’t help it when he moves over to her just to kiss along her bare back, Lydia giggling as he disappears under her hair, kissing her shoulder blades. “What are you doing?”

Stiles shrugs even if she can’t see it, Lydia can feel that he did though and she smiles over her shoulder at him. “What’s the matter?” she asks him and he shrugs again.

“Nothing.”

“Nothing, always nothing.”

“Better on your heart my dear.”

“My heart can take it.”

“I don’t want to break it… I don’t want to break you.” 

“What could you possibly be thinking about?”

She’s smiling but he’s not. “I’m thinking about you.”

“What about before?”

“I was thinking about you.”

“And now?”

“You.”

“Later?”

“How much liquor I have to drink for spending so much damn time with you.”

He gives her a look that says he’s absolutely done with her and she can’t help the giggles that shake her frame. “You  _ love  _ me.”

“Do I really though?”

“You do, otherwise I wouldn’t be naked on the edge of the bed,  _ starving,  _ while you kiss me up.”

“Well that just proves that  _ you  _ love  _ me.  _ Not that I love you.”

Lydia rolls her eyes and sighs, stretching as she stands up, leaving him on the bed, grabbing her silk robe now and throwing it over her body but not bothering to close it. “Oooo they set us up a whole table. And look! Our cakes are there. Is mine chocolate too?”

“Yours is chocolate inside and mine is strawberry inside,” he informs her, standing up and pulling on his own robe, tying it up and walking to the table with her. “Shall we cut one open?”

“We shall! I want to find the charms.” 

Stiles laughs and she takes the knife to cut the cake, Stiles taking a slice of cornbread and smearing butter on it it before biting into it, over a plate he picked up. Lydia leans over and he offers her a bite, letting her take one, the two sharing a quick kiss after. Lydia then proceeds to make her incision on the cake, one cut straight down the middle, and another two inches away, a nice thick piece of chocolate cake covered in fondant and frosting. Heavenly. 

She gasps when she sees that it’s filled with little chocolate pieces in strawberry cream and grins at Stiles who shrugs happily. “I love you so much.”

He scoffs and takes another bite into his bread. She takes a fork and goes to sit in an armchair, Stiles sits in the one besides hers and she curls up in the seat, but she would much prefer to be in his lap- it’s lonely in the chair. So that’s what she does, she moves herself and plops herself in his lap, where he accepts her with an arm around her and she feeds him a piece of her cake before smearing some frosting on his nose then kissing it off.

“Was that necessary?”

“Entirely so.” 

He laughs and takes from his the plum pudding, then smears it on her nose and kisses it off in return. “Why do you like plum pudding?” She asks, making a face.

“Because it tastes good?”

“No it doesn’t. It tastes funny.”

Stiles shrugs. “I like it.”

“There are no peaches.”

“They’re not in season.”

“Should’a married peach season.”

“I’m sure Italy is full of peaches. It’s always peach season there.”

“Why?”

“It’s warm.”

“I see.” 

She giggles and he grins back at her, the two moving through their ‘breakfast’ without a care. Soon they were ringing the bells for their maids, bathing in their separate rooms before getting dressed and ready to go out. Stiles is downstairs first, some of their family members, be it hers or his, casting him glances and it makes him a bit uncomfortable- they all  _ knew  _ what they’d been doing but nobody asks the questions he knows they’re all dying to ask and really he’s thankful, because he doesn’t want to answer them. It was private, to him anyways. Other men could flaunt their wives when asked, but he’d rather keep it to himself. Nobody had to know what happened in their bed. Nobody needed to know how sweet she sounded when she moaned or how her legs are a creamy white, and her body is so soft- and he could swear she smelled a lot like jasmine. (he thought that perhaps she was just wearing a lot of perfume.) (but he really wasn’t complaining, it was a nice smell.) There was nothing about it that he was willing to answer, especially not to his family members or hers.

“Where are you going?” Greg asks bitterly as Stiles passes through the atrium. The other man stopping him.

“Oh well, Lydia and I were going to this couples class on an introduction to playing with satanism since Lydia herself is quite the witch. See we were going to make voodoo dolls and to test them stab them through with daggers, so if I were you, I wouldn’t be surprised if you keeled over dead with a surprise dagger in your stomach.”

Greg looks absolutely miffed and horrified, his mother watching from the doorway with Kasia as Lydia enters the room. Greg looks to Lydia who dressed in a simple pink dress with black silk gloves that go to her elbows. “You’re both crazy, devil worshippers, thats what y’all are,” he spat before huffing away and Claudia enters with her mother, laughing, Lydia looking confused.

“You can’t keep your mouth shut, my love?” Claudia asks her son and he shrugs absently. “What on earth did you tell him?”

“We were going to an introduction to satanism and making voodoo dolls and that he would be dead later.”

“Stiles!” Lydia scolds.

“What? He pisses me off.”

“So, what if he convicts you?”

“To who? Stoker?”

Kasia cackles. “You’ve got him scared outta his wits.” 

“Good,” Stiles affirms with a proud smile and Lydia leans up to kiss his cheek happily.

“Where are you going?” Claudia asks, looking at the nicely dressed two. “No way you’re staying home.”

“I was going to take her for dinner and dancing-”

“And the bookstore.”

“And the bookstore if it’s open.”

Claudia grins and nods. “Alright. You two have fun, then.” 

“Will do mama.”

  
  


They’re in the carriage when they stop at the local bookstore, which is small but it does just fine. Lydia can’t seem to pick, her eyes are scanning every book's binding with interest. Stiles picks out two and lets Lydia pick out the other four, she’s like a kid on Christmas with how gleeful she looks presenting the four books to him. “We ought’a start reading… this one,” she points to one of them. “Tonight!”

“Will do my love.” He kisses her head and she beams, trailing behind him as they pay at the counter. The man gives them their books in a small tote bag and bids them a good evening. Stiles laces their hands and takes Lydia to the carriage. He helps her in before getting in himself and they’re taken to this eccentric nightclub where a band is playing and people are strewn about. Dancing or playing cards or drinking or a mix of two. It’s lit very dimly and she can barely see but it’s a rushing feeling.

“Shall we dance?” She asks him.

“Of course,” he tells her, beaming and though it’s dark and she can barely see, she makes out his smile on his features and beams all the same. They move to the dance floor and they’re dancing for what feels like hours. They twirl and dance and switch partners. And at some point Lydia is learning how to do Southern line dancing and although Stiles has it down to a science, Lydia is learning with a few girls beside her trying to teach her. She’s laughing and having fun. Stiles and Lydia ending up with different groups of people. Playing cards and drinking, dancing and talking and laughing and having such a lovely time. 

Neither of them want to leave but when the clock strikes midnight in the tower outside, she goes to find him and tugs at his sleeve, her husband looking up at her and wrapping his arm around his waist. “Last card game and then we’ll leave, yeah?” Stiles tells her and she nods, kissing his cheek, she can tell he’s a little drunk and honestly she’s quite the same. Giggling and nuzzling him behind his ear absently. She can’t help but notice his counterparts are much drunker than he, and they’re laughing about something but she doesn’t know what. Once the game is over, she and Stiles stumble out and order their carriage, waiting in the cold night.

“Did you have a good time?”

“Oh a wonderful time. I met these wonderful girls and they invited me to a tea party on Friday.”

“Oh that’s nice. Are you going?”

“I plan to, of course.”

She beams and he kisses her cheek gently. 

Once the carriage is here they climb in and once the door closes Lydia moves from her side of the carriage to his lap and kisses him, their lips meeting in passion, eyes slipping shut and their hands are all over each other. Her hands clasped about his neck and his are holding her waist. “I love you… so much…” he mumbles, kissing down her neck, and she sighs out softly, hands lacing in his gelled hair. “In the carriage?”

“Sure… Nobody will know.”

“Not if you’re screaming like a banshee.”

“I’ll be quiet.”

She kisses him before he could say something and he kisses her back, their hands undoing his pants and trying to push her dress out of the way, desperately, drunkenly needy for the other, trying to get as much friction and contact as possible. Once they’re ready enough, she slides onto him without care and has to bite onto his jacket to keep herself from being loud. Their bodies rocking into the other. 

The driver is glad he can’t tell what they’re doing, though he has a sort of hint from the rocking of the carriage that’s more than usual- he sighs and pretends it isn’t happening.  _ Kids.  _

Though Stiles and Lydia are more than engulfed in the other and they’re done rather fast, they don’t really bother to clean up or call Brett or Miss Blake to dress them after they get home. They just strip themselves free of any clothing and curl up in bed together.

“I love you.”

“I love you too, Lydia.”

“Lydia Stilinski.”

“ _ My  _ wife.” 

They both beam and their lips press together to kiss but they’re both asleep before they could really go anywhere with it. 


	42. Chapter 38

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kusanagi . mp3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uh oh what happens to Caden?!?!?!?!?!?!?!

Little hands shook at Stiles body and his eyes blink open to a very dark room and a small body looming over his own. He immediately recognizes it to be Caden, who seems to be crying. “Hey buddy… what’sa matter with ya?”

“Bad dream,” he whimpers, latching onto Stiles neck as he sits up and Stiles moves him onto the bed with him, despite him and Lydia being fairly naked beneath the covers. He figures that Caddy won’t notice or care much, so he doesn’t really focus on it. The boy curls up against his chest and Stiles wraps his arm around him, his head pulsing slightly with a hangover from their night out dancing at the club, Caden whimpering. “I thought you left.”

“Awh, babe I didn’t go anywhere. You know I’m going away for a while next week, don’t’cha?”

The boy nods. “But you’re comin back, right?”

“Yeah I’m comin back. Where would I go?”

He shrugs.

“I’ll always come back Caden.”

“Stiles? Who ya talkin too,” Lydia murmurers, turning over and startling at the child in her bed, moving to push the covers down between them to cover herself, looking at Stiles, who’s cuddling Caden.

“He had a bad dream,” Stiles explains.

“Oh… I didn’t expect to see him,” she mumbles and Stiles shrugs.

“I’ll put him back to bed once he’s asleep.”

“It’s fine,” she mumbles, curling up against them and nuzzling the back of Caden’s head as she falls back asleep. Stiles smiles, they were both so sweet and innocent and he loved them. He loved them so much, he’d never want anything to happen to either of them. Stiles wraps a protective arm around Caden and kisses his head before sighing softly. Lydia smiles at the sight, moving so Stiles can kiss her and then they’re all back to sleep. Peaceful and happy, and for a moment everything is okay. 

 

Stiles had woke up with Caden, got him dressed and took him to lessons. Stiles sat with him, watching the man try to get Caden to read- he just looked puzzled and frankly, he didn’t really want to read. He kept flipping to books with animals, and drawings on empty sheets of paper. Stiles watched from aside- he wasn’t allowed to intervene but he thinks that he might have to, if the man kept getting so fed up with Caden, who was just uninterested.

“Caddy, focus,” Stiles advised. “Look, you need to read-”

Caden shook his head and pushed Stiles hand away. 

“He doesn’t even know his letters. He won’t  _ learn- _ ” The teacher begins and Stiles waves him off.

“Caden come on, will you listen?” 

“Look-” he points to his picture, though provides no explanation to the squibbles on the page, the teacher gives Stiles a look.

“He’s just… slow. He’s not mental or anything but he’s-”

“Perhaps you should go take him to a doctor. He might pose a problem when he’s older. If he’s retarded, at least it’s taken care of early on.”

Stiles paled a bit and the teacher stood to leave. Stiles looked to Caddy, who looked at him confused. “He’s fine, just slow,” Stiles defends. The teacher sighs and bids Jack goodbye before going to speak with Claudia in the drawing room. Stiles picks Caddy up and kisses his head, holding him close to him, rubbing his back. If anything that man was probably suggesting to his family they throw Caden in some asylum, and his father is going to throw a fit, he’ll probably hit Caden, Greg will probably take it for trash to have on his family, his mother will continue to resent his father. Caden might be in an asylum… Stiles hated the thought, holding Caden tighter, he kept his nose pressed to his hair. 

“What’s wrong?” Caden asked. 

“Nothing babe.”

“I gotta go to the doc-tor?”

“No, no you don’t have to go anywhere. You’re going away with nana and papa, remember? That’s where you’re going.”

Caden nods and plays with the fabric of Stiles jacket, plucking at the buttons and giggling. Stiles  _ knew  _ he was developmentally challenged, but he wasn’t willing to give up on him, nor was he willing to put him in those death houses. Caden would be alone. He’d be afraid. He wasn’t going to leave his brother behind, not there, not when they could hurt him…  _ kill him.  _

Stiles felt physically repulsed at the idea of either of his brothers being dead, his stomach spazzing at the thought, and he has to bite his cheek to keep himself from puking on the carpet. Caden is still plucking at his buttons, and he’s so alive, and so innocent and childlike- Stiles can’t imagine him  _ dead.  _ In a small casket made of fine wood with a nice suit on, pale and bloated and turning green as he decomposes before his eyes. He doesn’t  _ want  _ to see that. Some people would tell him he looked so peaceful in his casket and others would call it a shame. And he’d just be standing there watching his (dead) brother decompose in a casket, Jack wailing somewhere in the background, his mother staring off somewhere, absently adjusting the hair on his head (is it really hair anymore when it’s just dully sat there?), wishing he were alive still. Stiles would be reaped of his heart with nothing left to spare, not cruelty, nor anger, nor hurt, nor pain, just an empty chest. His body would no longer be the vessel to his transactions and it would be all his fault because he’d _ left  _ him. 

Stiles puts Caden down and he shoots up to go to the bathroom, keeling over one of the buckets and puking into one of them. It doesn’t take a moment for his body to react, he just  _ does.  _ Doing on instinct is something Stiles doesn’t do but now he’s puking, and he’s shaking and crying, and he’s not even sick or really that hungover. He’s just puking for the sake of puking (puking because his very alive brother could potentially be dead because of him) and if this didn’t alert half of his family- then he didn’t know what did. He wasn’t wrong because his mother, Brett, Kasper, Kasia and his grandmother Marygold all came through to the bathroom, telling Brett to get this and do that and Stiles just sat there watching. He couldn’t get an inkling of privacy, could he? 

They all tended to him and pulled him around and sat him here (“no sit him there!”) before moving him there. Cold towels, checking for fever, “call the doctor!” and so on. Stiles wants to say he just made himself sick but finally resigns to saying he was just very hung over.

“I’m fine, really!”

“What do you mean you're fine? You were  _ fine  _ this morning,” Claudia said. “Maybe there was something spoiled in the food- or maybe you’ve just eaten too much.”

“He hasn’t been eating very much, Brett said barely anything was moved from the breakfast table yesterday,” Kasia says.

“Perhaps he had a heavy dinner-”Marigold adds in, giving the woman a look. (Stiles prays they don’t start fighting.) 

“I’m just hungover! I had a very bad headache and I puked-”

“Are you sure it’s alcohol, dear? You could be very sick!”

“I’m not sick, I’m fine.”

Lydia slips in to see the scene, her very pouty husband and 3 very worried woman and one very worried grandfather with a half concerned Valet. She moves to the group and Stiles looks to her for help, though she looks equally concerned. She tightens her arms around her silk robe, the sleeves dangling about her arms, and she can’t help but notice her husband looks very pale. Her stomach knots and she asks,

“What happened?”

“He just started throwin up all over,” Marigold informs. 

“I didn’t throw up all over  _ anything.  _ I just got uneasy.”

“Are you alright?” Lydia asks, pressing her hand to his forehead before brushing his hair back out of his face. “Do you feel fine, now?”

“I feel alright.”

“You haven’t been eating very much. Has your stomach just been uneasy? Perhaps he was nervous about something,” Lydia assures, an idea dawning on Claudia as she looks back to her son. The teacher must have told him his absurd idea. “I don’t think you’re making him feel any better, I’ll bring him to bed and you can all worry over him later when he’s feeling better.”

“We’ve already called the doctor!” Kasper says.

“Well when the doctor comes, I’m sure Brett will call on me to let him in our room, won’t you Brett?” Brett nods and Lydia smiles. Stiles looks thankful and she offers him her hand, he takes it when he stands and they walk down the corridor back to their bedroom. She removes his jacket, and gives him some tea that Miss Blake had brought for her with breakfast, then helps him out of his vest and shirt. He doesn’t say anything, just curls up in the bed. Lydia crawls onto the bed, pulling herself to sit beside him on the bed, petting his hair, kneeling on her knees. 

“What’s the matter?” she asks him.

“The teacher wants to put Caden in a Mental Hospital…”

“What?”

“He wants Caddy to examined for… retardation or something and then get checked into a hospital. What if mom and dad go through?”

“He’s staying with your grandparents… They’d never do that to him.”

“Lydia if he goes there they’d  _ kill  _ him-”

“Stiles nobody is going to kill him. He’s going to be fine,” Lydia assures, nudging him. 

“Are you sure? Are you absolutely sure, Lydia?”

“I’m not unsure… Stiles, he’s going to be fine.” her soft hands cup his face, and he watches her with large, childlike eyes, and she can’t help but let her heart melt, leaning in to kiss him softly. Stiles melting into her kiss. She makes a face after and he giggles. “You should drink the tea.”

“S’a good idea.”

A knock sounds at the door and Lydia stands to open it, the doctor on the other side. “How is he fairing?”

“He’s doing quite alright. Just had an uneasy stomach, is all.”

“Well better we take a look at him just in case,” the gruff, tall man tells her. He’s not presumptuously fat but he’s not very thin either, he’s got a rough look to him and Lydia thinks she’s rather afraid of him. Though the man pulls up a chair and sits himself down beside Stiles. “What are your symptoms?”

“I just puked.”

“I’m aware. What were the symptoms?”

“Felt kind of sick to the stomach.”

“And?”

“Bit of a headache.”

“Have you been drinking at all?”

“I was out drinking last night.”

“But you felt fine this morning?”

“No I just pulled through for the lesson my brother had.”

“Do you feel any pain, congestion, aching, now?”

“A little stomach ache.”

“That’s to be expected. Did the puking relieve the headache?”

“The tea helps.”

The doctor pulls a clean thermometer from his bag and advises Stiles to put it in his mouth. He waits until the thermometer is set then takes it out. “Your temperature is fine. You’re okay. I suggest that you eat lightly and drink at least 6 cups of tea a day for the next three days. Alright?” 

Stiles nods and smiles briefly, Lydia standing idly beside the bed, looking away when the man looks her over, she can Stiles glaring at him and tries not to grin. Though as the doctor leaves two little boys burst from Stiles dressing room and run over to him, Jack climbing up and taking Stiles face in his hands.

“Are you dying?”

“What?”

“Are you dying? You can’t leave me OR Lydia!”

“Jack i’m fine, baby.”

“But the doctor was here! Who’s going to marry Lydia? I can’t marry her yet! I’m only seven!”

Stiles laughs. “Jack, I’m fine. I just felt woozy. That’s all.” 

“Is it because of Caden? They’re not going to take him are they?”

“Nobodies going to take him. You’re going to make sure of that when I’m gone right? If anything happens you’ll be sure to tell me right?”

Jack nods eagerly, as if accepting a mission. 

“Where am I going?” Caden asks, climbing up beside Jack and they each occupy a leg on his lap.

“You’re not going anywhere today.”

Both boys curl up to him and Caddy takes his brother's face, examining him. “Are you going to be okay?”

“I’m going to be just fine.”

“You sure?” 

Stiles nods and Caden nods, hugging him, Lydia smiling at him. The little boy was so innocent and so pure. He was so young, her own heart fluttered at the idea of anybody doing anything to hurt him. She settles on the bed and takes Jack in her arms, pulling him into them, kissing his head. She felt a dull ache in her heart at the thought of having her own kids, glancing to Stiles, a small smile tugs at her lips.  _ Soon enough.  _ Jack takes her hair and he plays with it, she lets him, small braids forming by small fingers that weave them. Stiles is peacefully holding Caden who’s drawing in his small pocket notebook with his small pocket pencil.

 

“He’s worried John’s going to put Caden in the Asylum like the doctor says,” Claudia tells her mother. 

“Oh we’d never let him do that, and I don’t think you would either.”

“No baby of mine is going in one of those homes. They’re… horrendous, what they do to those kids? To those adults? I could never.”

“Does Stiles trust that, though?”

“Well I hope so.”

“He worried himself sick.”

“I suppose he did but he’ll just have to trust me on this one.”

“I was talking to Caden’s teacher before he left,” John announces as he walks in. “And he wants us to-”

“No!” Claudia snaps. “You’re not doing anything. You stay as far away from  _ my _ children as possible, a’right?”

“Claudia, what about what’s good for him?”

“What’s good for him is staying with me! Is staying here with his family!”

“You don’t know that-”

“I sure as hell do!”

“Claudia maybe he needs-”

“He needs his family. Does it bother you Stiles is more of a father to him than you ever were?”

“Am I not his father anymore?”

“Not in my eyes and certainly not in his. It bothers you doesn’t it?”

“Claudia-”

“Answer me!”

He adjusts and he’s not willing to be wrong, he’s not willing to walk out undignified. “Frankly, it doesn’t. If I’m not a father in his eyes, he’s not a son in mine.”

“Go to hell,” Claudia spits, pushing past him, and moving through the atrium before running up the stairs and to Stiles and Lydia’s room, where her children are sitting. Odette has since joined them. 

“The kids are leaving today with their grandparents.”

“Why?”

“You’re father is out of his mind.”

“What are you talking about?”

Claudia picks up Caden, ignoring his question. “Mama?” Stiles prods.

“Nothing.  I don’t want Caden or Jack around him. Odette, you’ll help your grandparents won’t you? Come on, get packing.”

“Yes mama,” she mumbles, Kasia moving in.

“So you’re kicking us out today, hm?”

“I don’t want them around him.”

“We’ll be leaving then.”

“What’s happening?” Stiles prods.

“Nothing. Don’t worry your head.”\

“You can’t just burst in here, call my father crazy then tell me nothing’s happening.”

“He wants to get Caden checked for.”

“What?”

“I told him no.”

“Why would he-?”

“He’s crazy and doesn’t care about any of you apparently.”

Stiles takes Caden from her arms and Caden hugs his neck, resting his head on his shoulder. “Stiles… if you ever leave, promise me you’ll take them with you?”

Stiles blinks and looks to Odette who’s standing by their nana before looking to his mama, Jack who’s curled into Lydia afraid. “I promise mommy. What about you?”

“I can’t leave him, Stiles. It’s my duty as his wife to stand beside him no matter what. I can’t leave him, even in the worst of times. We’ll work things out, but Caden and Jack never will. You know that more than anybody, they look up to you more than anything…”

“Nana you won’t let them take Caddy, will you?”

“No I won’t,” Kasia whispers, Lydia watching with misted eyes. The whole thing just felt so sad to her, she always thought Stiles was just so perfect but his life was more broken than a dead butterflies wings disintegrated on the floor. He’s falling apart, he always has been. She’s watching him try to keep the pieces together and she doesn’t know if it’s working.

His mother takes his brothers and then leaves. Lydia pulls him back to the bed and Stiles curls into her arms, letting her kiss his head and hold him. She tilts his head and she kisses him softly on the lips. 

“It’s all going to be okay…”

“I hope so…”

“It will be, I promise.”

Stiles almost looks hopeful. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay but like I'm not saying recommend this to stydia fanfic review blogs/whatever or to other people and leave really nice comments because i'm in a bad mood and it might make me feel kinda better  
> but plz leave nice comments and recommend this to people


	43. Chapter 39

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> blue . mp3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lol remember when ten pages was the longest chapter I've ever written? Lol okay yeah that's not a thing anymore- I don't know how long this thing is to be honest.   
> also disclaimer: There are excerpts from Count of Monte Cristo- they are not mine, they are being read aloud, they've been noted as not mine in the text by being stated as excerpts from the book.

Stiles bids Caden, Jack and Odette goodbye that very night, when it’s very late. Caden hugs him and doesn’t want to let go, Stiles assures him it’s okay and that there’s nothing to be afraid of. “You’re going to be fine, Jack is going to drag you on so many adventures- and nobody can hurt you there, okay?”

Caden nods, hugging him until Jack tugs him off and stands before Stiles pouting and Stiles grins and picks him up in his arms, the boy laughing happily. “Take care of Caden and Odette for me, okay?”

“Okay… You’ll come back for us, won’t you?”

“Of course. Wouldn’t leave ya behind.”

“And get me a present while you’re away.”

“What do you want?”

“Something that you like and think that I would like.”

“Alright, I’ll get you something.”

“And get Caddy something too. And Odette.”

“Of course.” Stiles beams, kissing his brothers head. 

“Don’t get sick. Or die.”

“Promise it. Pray for me, will you?”

“I promise. I’ll pray every night and I’ll make sure I get god’s good word that youll be okay.”

“What an angel,” Stiles cooes and kisses his head. “Promise me the same?”

Jack nods. “And I promise to protect Caden and Odette.”

“Perfect.”

“I won’t let you down Stiles.”

“You’ve never let me down, okay? You’ll be just fine. I’ll write to Odette and she can read you the letters.”

“You could write to me and I’ll read Odette the letters.”

Stiles laughs. “You’ve got me.”

Claudia walks out and has a little cage with her, a small bunny inside. 

“George!” Caden cries, reaching for it. “Look Stiles, he’s got a special spot.”

Stiles looks over and laughs. “He does.”

Lydia takes Jack from Stiles and kisses his cheek. “I’m gonna miss you.”

“More than Stiles?”

“More than Stiles?”

“Do you love me Lydia?”

“Of course I do.” She giggles. “I love you very much.”

“More than you love Stiles?”

“Oh… I don’t know about that.”

Jack pouts and she grins, kissing his head. “You should. What’s he have that I don’t?”

“Well for starters, he’s a man and you’re just a boy.”

“I’ll be a man soon.”

“I’m too old for you Jack. What about the Argent daughter?”

“Who Eliza?”

“Mmmhm.”

“Yeah she’s cute but I moved on.” He shrugs. “You’re the only girl for me Lydia.”

Lydia laughs and shakes her head. “Sorry to say you’ll have to move along.” 

“No fair. Stiles always gets the pretty girls.”

“You’ll get em too bud.”

She giggles and he kisses her before running to his grandmother and getting in the carriage. Stiles helps Caddy get in with the bunny. Odette kisses her brothers cheek goodbye and promises to write him back. Kasia and Kasper bid them goodbye, Claudia hugs Stiles side, looking hurt.

“You’ll be okay, Mama.”

“I hope so.”

 

The next week was sort of hellish. Stiles was thrown between his parents and his family, between questions and fighting, and other things. It didn’t help they were all fasting for lent. Stiles doesn’t really know what to do, and any time alone he gets is time well spent with Lydia. Normally reading to her or holding her, and normally their nights wound down with sex. He thinks that he’s glad that he has Lydia because he wouldn’t be able to do this without her. 

It was just last night that he was at the dinner table and he really might have flipped on Greg again if she wasn’t there to keep him steady. The man had made a backhanded comment about his father and Stiles had quickly run to his defenses before being put down. He didn’t understand why he couldn’t just leave already. But apparently they were staying for easter. (Thank god he’ll be gone.) Then he proceeded to talk and talk and Stiles had to bite his tongue, though Lydia’s light spirits brightened his mood the bit. 

Tonight: The night before their honeymoon is a relief, he’s so happy to finally be leaving and he’s glad that Caden is already safe and out of harm's reach. Lydia’s across the room, putting some things away in one of her suitcases. He notices one of them is her favorite perfume and her hair brush, alongside something that looks like journals or books. Stiles moves to settle in the bed, Lydia sighting and closing up her suitcase, the bolts snapping shut and she puts it down before adjusting her short nightgown that ends at her knees, smoothing it over, then pulling her hair to the side before padding over to the bed and climbing on. She kneels beside stiles on her knees and stiles leans over to kiss her softly, hand cupping the side of her face, he can feel the small smile playing at her lips, one of her hands knitting through his hair- At this point he’s come to terms with it, and he felt that if her hand wasn’t toying with his hair, then something was seriously up. They both had damp hair from baths, probably the last ones they’d have for three months since the boat ride would be long and unable to supply clean water for bathing. 

Lydia deepens the kiss and Stiles moans softly against her, their tongues poking out to meet each other, his hand moving to toy with her hair. They part for only a moment to breathe, their foreheads pressed together, the two are smiling and it feels like for the first time in a while. 

“We’re finally getting away tomorrow. Your dream come true,” Lydia whispers, and he barely nods before kissing her again, her smile pressing into their kiss, and he his eyes flutter to glance down at her, eyes just barely open. She leans into him and he leans back, then he leans more into her and she leans back, the two swaying slightly with their movements, seeming to tug at each other. Like they were fighting for who had the upperhand. Lydia’s hands cradle his face and Stiles flips her over and pushes her down to the bed, their hands moving to tug her nightgown off, the short dress off in a matter of moments, revealing her bare body and Stiles immediately goes in for her collar, kissing a trail down her body to her hips. She adjusts slightly, squirming as she watches him. He’d never done this before. Kissed her all over like this before. She was confused, and she didn’t know where this was going- though it was a pleasant feeling and she was eager to find out- but not blindly. 

“What are you doing?” she mumbles, echoing her thoughts.

“Brett gave me a few pointers, apparently girls  _ really  _ like when we put our mouths to good use. Do you mind?”

“No… I think I’m willing to test out his theory,” she replies airily, her legs spreading a bit more for him, and he grins. She trusts him so much it physically pains him.

“I love when you talk dirty to me,” he teases then he continues to kiss and finds his way to her thighs, placing butterfly kisses to her skin, moving to the inside of her left thigh and he licks her the sensitive flesh- pleased with the reaction he gets. He does it again, and then repeats on the other thigh, his tongue prodding her skin before he begins to give small kisses down her thigh to the meeting of her pelvis and her thigh and he kisses in the apex between the two, not touching her folds at all but very close to doing so. Lydia is making obscene little noises, squirming beneath him, her hips shifting, trying to get him to put his mouth where she needed but he moves to kiss elsewhere, teasing her. Her hips shift and she whines, rocking up just a bit. “Stiles…” She whines, hand reaching to tug his hair a bit, he smirks but he doesn’t stop, nor does he advance.

Brett had given him a good few pointers- of course the question was a bit awkward to ask but Brett seemed to swell with pride. “You’re really going to do it?”

“I mean… I want to- don’t get excited about it, I just need to know how to make her feel good.”

“It’s simple-” Then he went into detail on how he should tease her until she was near begging, how he should indulge in her, make her feel like he likes doing it and that’s the best damn thing he’s ever tasted, use his tongue more than lips, use it as a weapon and make her weak, Stiles looks slightly disgusted throughout though when presented with her body, he’s pretty turned on at the sight of her legs spread and ready- he kind of wants his mouth to be there, just to see. He takes all of Brett’s explicitly detailed pointers and keeps them in mind for the very moment he’s in. Brett pats him on the back and says something along the lines of ‘make me proud’ and Stiles half considers punching him, but doesn’t. He regrets it. ( _ anyways _ ) he thinks he’s doing quite well so far, considering Lydia is wreathing out of pleasure and he’s barely done anything yet. 

Kissing up to her hips and licking around the tuft of hair she left unwaxed. Lydia tugged his hair, frustrated due to his lack of touching. She just wants to shout for him to touch her, and stiles can tell, so he moves down between her legs under the sheets and he gently kisses the mound at the top of her slit, sucking just slightly and the moan she releases is indescribably dirty- it’s a deadly red, it’s  _ sinful.  _ He thinks he’s addicted to the sound, and he wants more of it- wants more of her.

He kissing her clit one more time before moving to lick up her slit, Lydia gasping, and he does it again before tracing the seam of her vagina, down into her opening and pressing his tongue in. He’s surprised by how very hot she is, he thinks of retracting but doesn’t, letting his tongue prod there for a moment and maybe it’s the heat of the moment, maybe it’s something else, but he likes the taste of her on his tongue. Pushing further in, just playing around with what feels right, Lydia near about rips his hair out, she’s gripping at his head so tight. She’s panting and rocking her hips. He obliges to her needs and licks, sucks and even prods his fingers a bit to help his tongue out a bit, just to get her to feel good. Lydia’s undone within six minutes, her body limp and her folds spasming with a feeling she’d never felt before. She wanted to make him feel that good and had no idea how. She could barely fathom what he just did to her was real… let alone how he did it and how to reciprocate it. 

He’s over her in after a moment and just kisses her softly, Lydia moaning softly at his kiss. His tongue is salty, and she thinks it has a taste of something unfamiliar tasting but also resembled the smell of sex. She thinks that she doesn’t like it very much but also thinks it’s not so bad after a moment. “I… I don’t know how to reciprocate,” she admits.

“You don’t need to. I did it for you.”

“I love you..” she mumbles. “But I want to do something in return.”

“Maybe you can take the reigns tonight and we’ll call it even.”

She giggles and kisses him softly, Stiles melting into the bed, the two making quick work of his closes before they flip over so she can move on top of him. He smiles up at her and kisses a mark into her neck, Lydia holds him there and inhales softly, her body arching into him almost perfectly. She loves how she fits there in his body. She loves him,  _ god _ she _ loves h _ im. 

 

The next morning was sort of blurry. They went down to a private breakfast, considering it was only six AM and had butter on cornbread and eggs on the side. They ate rather quickly and Stiles had a cup of coffee on his side while they dressed in the same room. Lydia moved about half dressed, making sure they’d packed everything. “Is my perfume still on the dresser, Stiles?”

“No you packed it last night, remember?”

Lydia nodded, opening her bags just to check everything before shutting them. “And we have a private room right?”

“Yes with a large bed and everything. Least that’s what they said.”

“Oh lovely, very lovely-”

“The carriage is outside,” Boyd announces entering the room, Lydia pulling up her button up shirt and doing the buttons up very quickly before tucking the pastel pink shirt into her dark purple skirt (that fell straight down along her legs) and Stiles throws a hat on her head for measures and she kisses him. Brett and Miss Blake are already waiting downstairs by their carriage, packing their things on. Boyd helps Stiles take everything downstairs, the two setting it up and Lydia is standing beside Brett, raising up on her toes. T’any comes out with Charlotte, watching them. 

“Y’all have fun a’right? And don’t get no sudden ideas and get in trouble, I can’t whoop y’all for gettin jailed, a’right? And be careful,” T’any warns, standing at the steps of the door and they all nod.

“We’re gon be fine, T’any,” Miss Blake assures and Brett nods in agreement. 

“Alright, y’all ought’a get goin,” Charlotte says, waving them off and smiling at Brett who smiles back warmly. Stiles glances between them than at Boyd who seems amused. 

Lydia leans into Stiles, her lips just above his ear. “She likes him,” she whispers.

“I think he likes her…” Stiles whispers back and they hold back their smiles. Lydia kisses Stiles cheek before the two young footmen open the doors and Stiles helps Lydia in before helping himself in. Brett and Miss Blake enter their own carraiges. Lydia waves to T’any and Charlotte from the window, calling a goodbye and the two wave back, happy as could be. 

Lydia leans back in her chair beaming, looking across the way to Stiles who’s looking out the window. “Can you imagine? Soon enough we’ll be honeymooning in France.”

“Soon… and then we’ll be in Italy for a while.”

“Oh it’ll be so nice.”

“Perhaps one day me and you can live there with all of our little children.”

“You think so?”

“I think so. If you like it that is. If not, then we could find other places.”

“Why do you want to leave Dubrowsky so bad lately?”

“It leaves a bad taste in my mouth, something about being home just makes me uneasy a lot of the time… like a premonition or something. I can’t really explain it.”

“You’re saying you feel like something bad might happen?”

“I… I don’t know. Especially after last week… with my father and everything- I know he means well most of the time but I just feel uneasy. Though I don’t think it’ll happen soon… I’ve had… weird dreams about it too. It’s like… Something is going to happen but I don’t know what. I don’t know if it’s really going to happen. Maybe it’s just me and I just want to leave… I always have.” The words were hard to say and it was almost shameful to say them. This was his  _ home.  _ He was supposed to live and die here, not feel the urge to flee it. 

“Why?”

“I want to be something.”

“You are something.”

“But for myself not my title, not my father's legacy or my grandfathers or my great grandfathers. I want my own legacy. I want my own title. I want my own… life.” 

“And you have so much. You’re not anybodies title or legacy… At least, it’s not the same. You’re not your father, you’re so very different. You’re better than that.”

“But is that how people will remember that? In a hundred years when our great grandchildren take hold of the house, will they remember that?”

“Do you remember you’re great grandfather?”

“Of course. I know him down to the history.”

Lydia gives him a knowing look and Stiles scoffs. “I’ve worked you all out,” She claims proudly. 

“I’ll let you think it.”

“I’ve won this battle.”

“But have you won the war?”

“I could win the war. I’m just as vicious, don’t you think?”

“You’re too tenderhearted.”

“I can be  _ very  _ vicious.” 

“If you deem it to be true.”

She kicks him lightly and he laughs, in some sort of jest, and she feels mocked, pouting. “I’m not the tenderhearted one. You just poured yours all over the floor for me.”

“Don’t expect this to be frequent. It’s be a rough few days.”

“The past week is the most progress to opening up you’ve ever made.”

“Oh please, don’t let it get to your head or else no progress will ever be made.”

Lydia scoffs at that, she knows he has trouble opening up to the world but at this point, he was just being stubborn. Though she thinks that he’s doing quite well, considering most people don’t get to hear those thoughts or see that side of him, something about it was very special to her- intimate. She must have been smiling as she watched him because he looks up from the book he brought to her and seems interested. “What?” he asks.

“Nothing, I was just thinking how lucky I am to have you.”

Stiles scoffs this time and shakes his head. “Alright, Lydia Stilinski, I think you’ve been served too kindly lately.”

“Isn’t it nice to be nice?”

“It’s nice to be nice when other people don’t constantly make a show of you being nice.”

“I’m not making a show.”

“You get all giddy.”

“Because I love you.”

She sounds so soft and tender, so open, and it was so careless, so casually put there. Her efforts never seemed to wean, she always seemed to want to let him know something about him was special to her, that she loved him, that she was entirely his, that she would tell him anything and he wondered how she did it. How she just was so open when he could barely admit that his own home left him hunched over by the weight it put on his shoulders. Stiles wants to reach out and touch her, just to make sure she was real- the tone of her voice had him doubting so heavily, that perhaps he was really stuck in a fugue state between life and death. He wasn’t very alive and he wasn’t very dead, but he was dying out somewhere in a field, lying there unconscious and in his head, he’s met this angel, Lydia Martin. Beautiful and kind and tender as she is, angelic at best, God’s grace on humankind- and he wondered how  _ he  _ got so lucky to have her. And who was he to deny her of loving him, when nobody else could? It wasn’t something he was willing to give up.

“I love you too,” he mumbles, head bowing to return to the pages of his book and Lydia moves to cuddle his arm, her head drooping on his shoulder, her hands wrapping around his arm as she cuddles into him, falling asleep. Stiles is almost sad that she’s sleeping. It’s as if the world is passing her by. But he thinks that she’ll have her whole life to look out the window of the carriage and see the fields of crops and the small shops, the single factory or two, the long rivers, the lakes, the brisk air. Leaning over, he kisses her head and lets her sleep; nothing has passed her by quite yet.

 

The hours pass and soon they’re pulling into the harbor, Stiles and Lydia are let down, Brett and Miss Blake following. Lydia is still pale and soft faced from her long sleep, clinging to Stiles wearily, blinking as she looks around and smiles. “Which boat is ours?” She asks, and Stiles looks around examining each one before pointing. 

“That one there, you see it? It’s just about the way in the harbor, the one with big French Flag beside the American flag?” 

Lydia traces the skyline and finds the boats. “Do we have time to walk around or are we running late?” 

Stiles pulls out his gold pocket watch and checks the time. “It’s only 9.34, when does the boat leave? 11 o’clock?”

“Well we’d have to wait on the line for entry,” Brett points out and Stiles nods. “We can wander a bit and find our way there, yeah?” Stiles offers, their footmen behind them with the bags, Stiles and Brett both take them, Lydia taking her large purse and her carry on, Miss blake doing the same. They tread through the masses of people, Lydia looking around at the stand and sellers that line the docks. Stiles and Brett pace behind her and Miss Blake is beside her. 

Lydia is awed by all the people there, all the children running around, the large vessels docked in the harbor, the bells ringing and there was something so soothing about the ocean waves crashing against the docks. She thought she’d like to be here forever, even more so when the sun shone so beautifully on Stiles, lighting his eyes in the sun, his navy blue jacket, white shirt and vest and gold ascot making him seem so pristine- as if he owned at least 3 of the boats (lord, she wouldn’t be surprised if he did), or something important like that- though his worth doesn’t lie in the boats he owns or the house he comes from, she thinks that the worth of Stiles Stilinski was the genuine beauty that peaked only in the sun by the sea, where his eyes turned to liquid gold, and his smile lit up  against the sky. It was a special sort of importance, one that only he could encompass, by the way that he walked, the way that he talked, she slows her role just so she can walk beside her, and Stiles smiles at her and he opens his mouth to say something when somebody calls his name.

“Miezech! Mieczyslaw Stilinski? How are you doing Lad?” 

It was Mister Dunbar, Stiles recognizes and he beams, nodding at Liam before putting their bags down and shaking the mans hand. “I’m doing quite alright, I’m sorry that you and your son had missed my wedding.”

“Wedding? Oh that’s right! You married just a week ago, was it?”

“Something like that, yeah.”

“Where are you off too? Shouldn’t you be in a cabin for your honeymoon?”

“Oh we had planned on spending it in Province, in France.” 

“Oh how lovely! How’s your sister?”

“Oh she’s quite alright. Her and the boys went down to Kentucky to stay with Nana and Pop-Pop until we return.”

“How long are you gonna be?” Liam asks.

“Probably until November, but no worries, ask my momma for her post number and I’m sure she’ll be just head over heels for you if you keep in touch.”

Liam grins and Stiles winks. “We must be going, we have to catch the boat,” Stiles insists and the man nods, the group bidding goodbye, Lydia walking beside Stiles, who’d since picked the suitcases up again. 

“Look, the boat is right there!” Lydia cooes, pointing vaguely towards the boat and Stiles nods, laughing, Brett nudging her slightly.

“No silly, that’s not that boat,” he teases, just to confuse her.

“Then what is it?”

“Slave trade.”

“What?”

Brett grins. “I’m kidding. That’s illegal you know. Never been on a boat before?”

Lydia shakes her head. “S’it’s my first time.”

“They get a bit nauseous,” Stiles admits. “Perhaps you’d want to stay above the rooms, on the deck for a while, just to get acquainted with the rocking of the boat.”

“I’m sure I’ll be fine.” 

Stiles nods and they finally reach their line, due to it being so early the line is short, they’re only waiting thirty minutes before they’re showing their papers and tickets. They board the boat, Lydia glancing around, looking up at the tall masts and the waving flags. Stiles smiles and kisses her head, waiting on an usher to show them their room. He even helps with the bags, which was nice on the ladies. Though Stiles and Lydia get a high class room, they permit the servants to smaller quarters at the end of the halls. Lydia falls on the  bed as Stiles kicks the door shut and puts the bags down. 

“It’s so unsteady,” she says, as the boat rocks in the water. “Does it even out?”

“Not that I remember.”

She nods and he laughs, falling onto the bed beside her. Surely the bed is actually rather small compared to the one they have at home, but it is suitable for two people. They’re just laying there, the bed swaying with the boat, their hands lacing between them as they stare up at the ceiling. “You look so tired…” Lydia points out.

“I hadn’t slept since this morning.”

“So take a break, sleep a little bit. We have three months to spare,” she cooes and he smiles, leaning over to kiss her softly on the lips, Lydia kissing back, her hand running through his soft hair- she thinks she ought’a cherish it before it becoming oily and wrought with dirt. She hopes her own hair isn’t too bad and if she can save some water, or even a little oil, just to soothe the knots while brushing, she thinks it ought’a to be a miracle. Though her worrying halts when she feels Stiles head droop to her breast, his arm wrapping around her instinctively- they’ve barely been married for a week and he’s fallen into the habit of holding her when he’s unconscious, it makes her smile. 

She lets him sleep and ends up trying to braid his short strands of hair, playing with them. Within an hour (or perhaps it was more) she hears the whistle of the boat and shakes the entire frame, her body revolting at the thought and she feels dizzy- squeezing her eyes shut. Brett knocks and enters.

“The boat is raising anchor if you want to go upstairs and look,” Brett offers and Lydia glances at Stiles before nodding and wriggling out. Brett leads her upstairs and he manages to pull her through to the railing. There’s confetti flying about, and people cheering, and waving, and singing. 

She stands next to Brett, looking up as confetti falls and hugs into his side. “It’s so beautiful!”

Brett beams and nods. “Sometimes you’ll believe you’ve never seen nothin like it,” he tells her. “Surprised they hadn’t broke champagne.” 

“Perhaps they have and we just don’t know.”

“We should find it. What a delight it’d be.”

Lydia giggles, and leans against the rail of the boat with Brett beside her. They watch the festivity die down, all the confetti fall to the ground, watch the people begin to clear out and disappear, watch the workers set to cleaning and manning the ship. 

Lydia sits there for a long time, she notices Stiles come up but he doesn’t go to find her, she wonders if he’s upset but she sees him later on, with a group of men, talking and laughing, and they’re passing around cigars. She thinks she likes the way he looks when smoke passes between his lips, but she also thinks drinking suits him much better- he isn’t much of a smoker. Though she appreciates the scene either way- and she doesn’t really know why she’s so content, just sort of holding her stomach and leaning against the railing, the sea breeze is soothing even if the rock of the boat makes her queasy. 

“Now who is this here? Lydia Martin!” A voice calls and Lydia stands up straight, looking around only for her eyes to land on a very familiar, seductive like figure. It’s Mary Smith from the estate in Washington Heights- they used to be friends, though at some point they just grew apart, grew into competition. 

“I’m not really a Martin anymore,” Lydia informs. “I’ve since married about a week ago, this real kind man named Miezech-”

“What is he an immigrant?”

“No he’s the heir to Dubrowsky.”

“As in Dubrowsky tobacco? Like amongst the wealthiest of the country?”

“That’d be his family, well mine now too.”

“You’re kidding.”

“I’m not. Stiles Stilinski.”

“Oh what a lie, is he even on this boat Lydia-”

“Why am I lying? I don’t know why you’re always so insistent on competing against me.”

“Because you think you’re really up there.”

“Listen if you don’t believe me, he’s right over there with some men. And besides, we used to be friends Mary- very close friends. Can’t we still be friends?”

“Lydia, You have a lot of nerve thinking that after what your parents did to mine that-”

“I am not my parents. I don’t know what you think I had to do with it, but it’s long since passed us. I am not them and you’re not your parents either.”

“And who taught you that life lesson? You’re alleged husband?”

“Do you want me to bring him over? And besides, you approached me. That means you want to amend things just as badly.”

“I… I s’pose I just wanted to see what you were up to. Standing here all alone, unlike most people do.”

“I’m content to stand all alone and watch things unfold. Besides Brett left a while ago to do god knows what.”

“Who’s Brett?”

“Stiles Valet.”

“You’re sleeping with his Valet?”

“What? No… we’re just friends. Why would you think that?”

“Not many people are happy with their marriages.”

“Well it was a good arrangment. I’m more than happy for Stiles and I.”

“Are you?”

“Of course I am. He’s a good husband. Are you happy?”

“I don’t really know. He insisted we move all of a sudden and here we are in the south, now we’re taking a trip. He’s put us in this small house and all of a sudden he wants children and a farm. Of all things, a  _ farm.  _ Can you believe it?” 

“Well it’s not preferable, I’ll admit.”

“And here you are, you must be living a dream.”

“It’s be more balanced than dream like, I could say. All people have their share of problems.”

“Does it have anything to do with you and the scandal a few months ago? I didn’t bother to read it but apparently you were all over the papers.”

“I chose to side with Stiles over my father the day of his case. Stiles was trying it.”

“A rich man like him is also a lawyer? What a done deal.”

“A harvard graduate.”

“Lovely, really. What happened to your father?”

“May never see the light of day again. My mother lashed out on me and we may never talk like people again. She thinks I’m a traitor.”

“But she arranged you to him?” 

“You should think.”

“How funny. Your mother always struck me a funny woman.”

“Oh?”  
“Yes she had this way about her. Always sort of looking at you weird, like she was trying to find something bad to pin on you.”

“Well certainly you’re not wrong… mother is suspicious of all people, always had been. You ought’a wonder what happened for her to be that way.”

“Perhaps somebody wronged her in a very wrong way.”

“Perhaps… your mother isn’t much better either.”

“My mother is just frightened. She’s very… anxious I suppose.”

“I understand.”

“Do you understand?”

“To terms, I do yes.”

“How nice of you.”

Lydia laughs slightly and sinks against the railing to sit on the floor, Mary hesitates but joins her. “I don’t think I quite like it on the ocean.”

“Why not, Mary?”

“It’s rocky and the further out we go, the bigger the things we’ll see. The stranger. What if one of those whale type creatures flips the boat?”

“I really don’t think God is so cruel, it’s not bound to happen at all.”

“How can anybody be certain?”

“Well isn’t that what we ask on our day to day? We can’t be certain of anything but here we are, we trust and we live and love… it’s not so bad.”

“I don’t trust the ocean.”

“Perhaps give it a chance. I think it’s quite nice, really.”

“And we can’t bathe for months.”

“Which if done right, can’t be so bad.” 

“And how is that ever done right?”

“Save bits of oil or water for your hair and dab on minuit amounts of perfume. Should keep things fresh.”

“Surely…”

“Did you get an upperclass room?”

“Not on the first level.”

“That’s not so bad.”

“Perhaps not but it still would have been nice… those are of nicer quality.”

“It’s all a matter of circumstance. You mustn’t think too much about it.”

“You can say that but what if Stiles suddenly ran low on money and you could no longer have those sort of luxuries?”

“I’d take what life gave me and stand beside him. I don’t think I could stand to loathe when there’s good things in the world.”

“Good things in the world.” She snorts in an unladylike manner. “Like what?”

“Like love… like companionship… like being able to have a good time.”

The sun was beginning to set and Lydia looked to see if Stiles had went inside yet or not. Not that she was looking to run from Mary, but she just wanted to know where he was, he was exactly where he was before and this time they met eyes- he had been watching her and she smiles at him and he smiles at her.

“Do you really think you’re in love?” Mary asks her and Lydia nods.

“I do… I had never felt so… alive. So naturally applicable to somebody. He takes care of me, he always has, even if it was for his own benefit.”

“Lydia one day he might betray you-”

“And he would rue the day he did. Stiles would never. He’s not like his father, he’s not like anybody. Stiles loves me the same way I love him.”

“But how can you be certain.”

“You just know.” 

“Then I guess I don’t know.”

“I’m sure whoever he is is trying his hardest Mary.”

“I can’t be sure.”

“You can always be sure. Look into your heart.”

“Easy for you to say.”

“It isn’t. It took a lot for me to put my full trust in Stiles… I won’t go back on him now. He’d never hurt me, not intentionally.” Lydia has to wonder if Mary had been hurt herself. If perhaps that was why she was so caught up in the idea that love never did exist nor did it last. Perhaps she’d been hurt, perhaps she never had a choice like Lydia and Stiles did, but the only difference was they chose not to be happy. They chose not to make it work. 

A bell rings and after a few minutes people start to move towards the stern, Stiles moving towards Lydia and taking her hand to help her up. “I think that’s the dinner bell. Have you eaten anything at all, today?”

“Not necessarily. What time is it?”

“About five thirty, last I checked.” 

Mary had stood, idly waiting beside Lydia, eyes scanning around, avoiding the two. “This is my old friend Mary,” Lydia tells him and Mary looks to them, and she recalls the face rather promptly- it was Stiles Stilinski, she’d met him just last year at a gala in the west, he’d been such a charm really, though she didn’t recall him looking so mature. 

“Well pleasure to meet ya Mary. How do you do?”

“Quite alright, we met last year at the Ohio Gala, after the durby? I don’t suppose you remember me at all.”

Stiles assesses her, scanning her features- long blonde hair, blue eyes and he really does try to remember her but she looks like any other girl he might have met, didn’t strike his memory any different but he beams all the same. “Of  _ course  _ I remember you, you’d been such a charm! It was at the big church hall, wasn’t it? And there was that drunk priest who kept babbling on about Jesus and the merits he held, and what not?”

“Oh you do remember! And he kept on about the disciples or something like that?”

“Yes! Oh it was such a grand time, Lydia you ought’a wish you were there, it was crazy. And there was a circus down the street and we all snuck out and we were able to catch the last show before they closed, and Karen had absolutely lost it at the sight of the elephants, she  _ loved  _ the elephants, for whatever reason.”

Lydia beams, watching him talk on and on, and he really must be just trying to make Mary feel better because she could swear he had no idea who the girl was just moments but he had her convinced. He must at least vaguely remember. “You were there, weren’t you Mary?”

“Yes and she went on and on about how she wanted one of them?”

“She did! Lydia and Karen are rather acquainted now. As are her and Elizabeth.” 

“Elizabeth who?”

“Darcy.”

“I don’t think I remember her?”

“How could you miss her?” Lydia asks, Stiles scoffing.

“How could I have missed you?” He teases.

“I wasn’t there.”

“Bet you’d never left New York before you came to the south.”

“I was at your Gala in Massachusetts,” she points out.

“Your parents were, I know that. I recall our fathers talking at some point. Though I really don’t recall you being there.” 

“Perhaps you just missed the love of your life.”

“And here we were thinking life could have passed us.”

“Glad it hadn’t, huh?”

Stiles shrugs. “I wouldn’t consider myself glad, just so much as fortunate. You’re tolerable. Now come on, you both must be starving.” Stiles tugs at Lydia’s hand and she follows him, Mary trailing behind them. She doesn’t even bother to look for her husband and as they walk into the crowds of others, she is brightly conversing with other women.

“It’s nice that you knew Mary, why didn’t you know her when you saw her? Did she just strike you familiar or something?”

“Well if I’m being very honest, I don’t really remember her at all. I mean, all these people remember me all the time and I have no clue who they are, so I learned that the best thing to do in lieu of awkward situations like that is that you just play along with it. As long as you can recall what happened, they’ll think you can recall them.”

“Well… I can’t say I’m unimpressed. Not many people would figure something like that out- though I’m not surprised you had. Isn’t that lying, though?”

“It’s not lying. It’s just… complimenting somebody to think they’re memorable enough. Of course, I only meet hundreds of people at every party, how should I remember all of them?”

“How do they remember you?”

“I’m a striking personality.”

“Your feathers are showing.”

Stiles grins and she shakes her head, pushing him slightly. “What?”

“Don’t be cocky about it! And you say I’m a peacock.”

“You dress like one, with all your golds and pinks and fancy dresses.”

“I like my style!”

“You’re practically Marie Antoinette.”

“I’m not like that very much anymore, and besides, the only accessories I wear most of the time are the necklace you gave me for christmas and my rings.”

She shows him her hand with the decorated band the wedding band and he takes her hand and kisses the gold ring. “How sweet.” 

She grins and pulls the necklace out so it shows over the button up, toying with the pendant on the chain. Stiles tucks his arm around her hip, pulling her towards the buffet tables, the two grabbing plates of breaded chicken, rice, green beans and small paper cups of tea or coffee. They’re able to snag a small two people table, Lydia poking at her food. She wonders if the food will be this good the rest of the time- though she doubts it. Stiles and her are sat eating, the two just enjoying each others company, Brett was with some men and Jennifer Blake was some means off with some women in their mid twenties like her. They all seemed to be having a grand time and Lydia beamed. 

“This is going to be a good trip,” she decides. “We’re all going to have a lovely time really.”

Stiles smiles and shrugs. “Brett packed some champagne.”

“Perhaps we should save it.”

“Perhaps. When we’re in Europe there’ll be plenty. Belgium has amazing liquor, I’ve heard.”

Lydia nods. “We can go wine tasting.”

“Or just attend many parties.”

She laughs. “Free liquor, an American’s best friend.”

Stiles laughs at that, shaking his head. “Well we can’t buy all this liquor and then not like it and not drink it.”

“Resell it.”

“That’s cheating.”

“It’s not!”

“It is!” He laughs and she shakes his head. Taking a forkful of rice, Stiles plays with her fingers. “You know, we own a line of boats that are rented by merchants and i’ve never been on one of them. Isn’t that funny?”

“Perhaps we should look for them. Dubrowsky printed in on the sides.”

Stiles grins. “Presumably.” He cuts a piece of chicken off before eating, the two finishing dinner in easy silence, everybody dizzy and uneasy resorts to their rooms after, Stiles and Lydia back on the bed, staring at the ceiling.

“I’ve never felt this dizzy in my life,” she tells him. 

“You okay? Should I go see if I can get you more tea?”

“No it’s alright love.” Lydia turns and moves to rest on the side of his body, the right half of her body finding purchase on his. Her hands in his hair as she hugs him, Stiles wrapping his arm around her, pulling her closer to his body. Lydia tilts his head and catches his lips in a soft kiss, the two parting after a moment, Lydia adjusting her body so she’s fully on top of him, boxing his head in between her arms as she kisses him, hands tugging at his hair. A small smile on his lips, nudging her with his nose. 

“Lydia… Can we lean off tonight?”

“Is everything alright?”

“Oh everything is fine, just that I’m not really up for it right now.”

“That’s alright, it can wait,” Lydia assures, kissing him briefly. “Can we continue reading the book? I want to read to you tonight.”

“Well I’m in no opposition to that.”

Lydia nods, getting up she sheds her day clothes and her nighty is underneath. She folds them up and places them on the foot of the bed before she goes to his suitcases and looks over them. “Which one is it in?” she asks glancing behind her, and he’s on the edge of the bed, undressing from his suit, his eyes looking up. 

“The suitcase against the wall, love.”

Lydia nods and she pulls the other one aside and she grabs the suitcase against the wall and lays it down against the floor, plucking it open and she searches for the book, gently lifting folded articles until she found  _ the Count of Monte Cristo  _ near the bottom with their bookmark holding their place. She puts the bookcase aside and shuts the suitcase. Then she moves to the bed where Stiles is mostly undressed, only in his white t-shirt and his pants are undone, though he doesn’t make move to change them, casually lounging against the bed, his right arm opens to invite her into his lap, and Lydia takes a well deserved opportunity. She sits in his lap, and opens the book, they had left off exactly at the tippity top of chapter 97  _ The Departure from Belgium.  _

“ _ A few minutes after the scene of confusion produced in the salons of M. Danglars by the unexpected appearance of the brigade of soldiers, and by the disclosure which had followed, the mansion was deserted with as much rapidity as if a case of plague or cholera morbus had broken out amongst the guests. In a few minutes, down all the doors, down all the staircases , by every exit, everyone hastened to retire or rather to fly; for it was a situation where the ordinary condolences - which even the best friends are so eager to offer in great catastrophes, - were seen to be utterly futile. There remained in the banker's house only Danglars, closeted in his study and making his statement to the officer of gendarmes; Madame Danglars, terrified, in the boudoir with which we are acquainted-”  _

Lydia continues to read as Stiles plays with her hair, gently braiding and then undoing then braiding again. Much like all the others in their rooms, lazily lounging, trying to adjust to the swing of a boat. Though unlike others, he found himself utterly content with the lieu of the situation and he liked sitting here with Lydia, that the night didn’t have to end a certain way for them to be happy. He liked being her  _ friend  _ before he was her lover- and irrelevantly so, he really liked her reading voice and the way she took up character; it was kind of silly, the voices she did and the faces she made but he didn’t mind so much- he thought it made her all the more endearing. All the more enchanting, all the more reason to love her. She was utterly ridiculous and Stiles loved her like he never loved anybody else.

“Oh ready, this line of dialogue sounds exactly like you!” Lydia proclaimed. She clears her throat before picking up again, “ _ Listen, Louise. I hate this life of the fashionable world always ordered, measured ruled like our music paper. What I have always wished for-  _ Oh this gets me, it’s you, I swear it is-  _ , desired and coverted is the life of an artist, free and independent, relying only my own resources, and accountable only for myself-  _ I swear to god, did we not have this conversation this morning?”

Stiles is laughing, her dramatic reading (deep voiced imitation included) absolutely gold. “Something like that. Though if I remember correctly ghosts were involved.” 

“Ghosts were not involved!” 

“They were, I remember.” 

“Oh they were not! Don’t kid.”

“I’m not kidding. It’s true. I remember it because I said it.” 

“Liar. A real liar.”

“If you say so.”

“ANYWAYS-  _ Remain here? What for? - that they may try, a month hence, to marry me again? And to whom? - M. Debray perhaps as it was once proposed. No, Louise, No! This evening adventure will serve for my excuse. I did not seek one, I did not ask for one. God sends me this, and I hail it joyfully!”  _

She takes a breath and continues reading. At some point they switch off and they’re done by the book by the end of the night. “ _ ‘Darling’ says Valentine, ‘Has not the count just told us all human wisdom is summed up in two words? - Wait and hope.’  _ And thus sums up, the very conclusion of the Count of Monte Cristo. Lovely, wasn’t it?”

“Inspiring I believe. That monologue really killed me.”

Stiles laughed and kissed her gently, Lydia’s hand pressed to his chest. “Well it isn’t very late yet, it’s only 8.30, perhaps we can go walk up on the deck, just for a bit? I’d like the fresh air. And perhaps we’ll catch glimpse of the moon.”

“I’d like that. Come on, perhaps we’ll find your friend again.”

“I wouldn’t say we’re friends, necessarily.”

“And why is that?”

“My parents had scammed hers and well it caused a big rift. I would like to amend things though. I used to love Mary so very dearly.”

“Never too late to fix things.”

“We must wait and hope, shan’t we?” She teases and he grins, a glorious smile and she grins back, grabbing her robe, stiles doing his pants up and pulling his jacket on top of her shirt. They walk upstairs to the deck, Lydia taking him to the railing she had been leaning against before, and he leans over her, kissing her, the two smiling, uncaring. They part and Stiles moves to lean beside her. 

“Look! The moon looks so bright from here,” she points and Stiles looks up at the sky, tilting her head to face a certain cluster of stars. 

“See those? That’s Leo and just a means that way you can see Leo Minor. Do you see them?”

Lydia shakes her head and Stiles traces them out with his finger for her and she beams. “You memorized the patterns of the stars?”

“It was a phase when I was younger.”

Lydia beamed. “Any others?”

“Not that I can see. They’re spread. I think the greeks made them up.”

“You’ll have to tell me all about it.” 

“Maybe tomorrow night.”

“I can wait until then.”

They beam and she leans into him, her head on his chest. She was content, the most she’d been in a week. Things were shaping up to be really quite lovely.


	44. Chapter 40 (repost)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> me & U (bootleg remix) . mp3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry I took this down before! IF you read it, read it again! I changed a lot of it because I posted it while really tired last night and I was like "oh this should be fine" and when I reread it, I went "Wow this is not fine"

_ Day 14 on the boat _

Stiles is leaning into the bed, trying to cover away all his thoughts. He felt like he was falling apart for no reason- it just felt like he was worrying himself sick again. He didn’t know what was happening at home, what if his brothers weren’t okay? What if Stoker died? What if his dad did something he’d regret? What if Greg did or said something that got him in trouble and it caused his aunt Carol pain? What if the states had finally broke out into fighting? His heart hammers against his chest, his thoughts twisting and contorting further. They weren’t even real thoughts anymore, they were just wicked paranoid nightmaric visions forming in his head. One after the other, and he was clutching the blankets and trying to sleep, Lydia was somewhere upstairs with her friends, Stiles couldn’t stand to be with anyone for the rest of the night. He could barely stand to see himself. 

Sitting in the bed, all he could think of was opening the door and somebody jumping at him with a knife and he’d scream himself to death and nobody would hear as his heart ripped out and Lydia would come down with Brett and find his corpse. He could almost see himself dead, it was not a sight that he liked thinking about. Even more twisted, the slight buzz in his ears made him wonder if something lingered in the room- a bug that carried the plague, a rat, a spirit, the devil. All coming to get him. Tear open his soul and take him. Use his body as its vessel to destroy. Stiles feels like screaming into the pillow, clutching it, facing the wall. He wants to move to the side furthest from the wall but doesn’t want to be inconsiderate of Lydia. Shutting his eyes tight, breathing heavy, his heart pounding against his ears.  _ You're gonna die. The boats going to sink and everybody will survive while you burn down here and suffer, go down and get swallowed by the water. You’re going to sleep walk and end up walking off the boat, plunging into the ocean and waking up to imploding lungs.  _ Stiles could feel his lungs imploding, they’re filling with water, he can’t even breathe right, and suddenly Stiles open his eyes and he feels like he can breathe again, panting in the dark. He wonders what the hell is wrong with him and that maybe he deserves to be in an asylum, normal people don't’ think like this. 

He flips over in the bed and rests his head on the pillow, facing the rest of the room now, away from the wall and he shuts his eyes- this time he falls asleep but with a few horrific thoughts lingering. He falls asleep and not even ten minutes into his REM he’s at his grandmother's house and he can hear talk going around. 

“ _ Jack was found dead this morning…” _

_ Dead? How could he be dead? Stiles approaches a couch and Jack is lying there, his clothes are there but he can’t seem to remember a body being there, all he sees is his brothers pajamas with the night cap pulled over the face. And he sees Caden approaching to enter the room and he tugs him away. _

_ “I want to see Jack!” _

_ “Jack is sleeping baby… let him sleep. Come on, come let’s go.” He says, turning he sees Odette looking on from the doorway and he knows that she knows. She walks past them and goes to stare down at his brother. And Caden tugs to go by her but he tugs back. “Caden baby, come on, let’s go.” _

_ “But Oddy is by him.” _

_ “Jack is sleeping Caden, he can’t play now.” _

_ He can’t play ever again. The tears well in his throat and he constricts them. Stiles can’t stand to breathe air that Jack won’t ever breathe again. They go outside to another room and suddenly their younger cousins are there, he walks downstairs to the parlor where his father and uncles are dressed in mourning suits. He lingers at the door before turning to leave- nobody wants them to know what’s happening but he already knows. He walks back and the kids are playing, ready to go get Jack. _

_ “Jack is sleeping, leave him alone,” he says and they’re all upset. _

_ “Can’t we wake him up?” _

_ “No.” _

_ It breaks his heart, and he can still see the body on the couch, though he doesn’t think a body is there at all but he knows, he knows that the body is there on the couch, Odette hovering over it with her finger pointed at his nose. What was on his nose? He’s still there in his pajamas. He’s pale and cold now, no warmth to ever be found in his body again, no sarcastic remarks, no witty smiles, no nothing. Jack Stilinski was dead and Stiles Stilinski was heartbroken. _

_ Time passes and Stiles is walking through town. Nobody seems to know yet everybody seems to know. Walking into his office, he sees Stoker at his desk and he doesn’t seem to care. He sits at the desk and Stiles begins to weep profoundly. Stoker rests a hand on his shoulder and Stiles peeks up from his hands, he is sobbing but there are no tears and he feels as if he isn’t really crying at all. Why isn’t he crying? He’s a monster. His brothers dead and he can’t even seem to care enough to cry real tears- he thinks that he is cold and and he is heartless and that when one is heartless, they care for nobody, he is unfazed, even the tears feel like they’re there, they’re not and he can’t cry for his own brother- his blood, pride and joy. He thinks that he’s the cruelest man to ever live. _

_ Bram rubs his back and Stiles watches him, his eyes are red but he’s not crying. “You’re going to be alright. Go do some work now.” _

_ Stiles doesn’t, he leaves and he walks down towards Lydia and Theo stops him. “I told Stoker and he doesn’t care- about how your brother is dead.” _

_ Stiles eyes well with tears at the mention of his dead brother and he can’t help it when he just breaks down into Theo’s arms, accepting the embrace as he cries on his shoulder. “Why don’t they care! Why don’t they care!” This time there are real tears, but they fade after a moment and he’s walking away.  _

_ He walks into Allison and Allison seems indifferent, sitting at a table, writing a letter to Scott. She doesn’t even seem to have a clue. “Stiles what’s the matter with you?” _

_ “Jack is dead.”  _

_ He gets it out like nothing is wrong with that sentence, he’s holding strong for a second and Allison nods, as if she didn’t care, or as if she didn’t sympathize, as if she didn’t even know him. “My brother… Jack… he’s dead.” _

_ “I’m awfully sorry to hear.” _

_ “Ally…” _

_ It was as if they were strangers.  _

_ “Nobody cares he’s dead.” _

_ “He was only a wee child Stiles, there’s nothing important to losing a child.” _

_ Stiles breaks into tears, Allison walks away from him. _

_ He’s weak.  _

_ Inconsolable.  _

_ Spiteful.  _

Stiles breathes awake, sitting up to find the lamp on and Lydia turns around at the sudden movement in the bed, Stiles panting and raking a hand through his hair, looking frantic. “Stiles what’s the matter?” She asks, putting her earring down.

“Jack was dead and nobody cared.”

“Excuse me?”

“It all felt so real… like, like he was really dead. And everybody just kept watching me like I was crazy for caring he was dead and Allison said it was straight up unimportant because he was a child. My brother was dead and I was the only one morning and his body was on the couch, and Odette kept staring at it and pointing her finger at him, unmoving-” 

“Stiles love… it was just a dream.”

“Lydia… i’m petrified.”

“Don’t be, god be willin, nothin’s happened.”

“What if something has?”

“Nothing has, Stiles. He’s fine. Jack is fine.”

“But we don’t.”

“You’re just worried. It was just a dream.”

“What if meant something?”

“You’re just shaken up, my love.”

Stiles watched her with brown doe eyes, shimmering with glossy tears and he looked like a broken pup, Lydia softening and taking his face in both of her hands, pressing a hard, meaningful kiss, to his forehead, breathing in as she lingered, her lips sucking just slightly before parting- and if all her love wasn’t poured into the kiss, she doesn’t know how else to have conveyed it. Stiles wraps his arms around her torso and she holds his head.

“Everything is fine.”

“I’m not.”

Lydia is surprised by the confession, her nose pressed in his hair and she doesn’t know what to say, how to reciprocate, she waits for him to speak but he doesn’t. She wonders if he had said it all, the low whisper having been in her head. She looks to him when she feels tears on her dress and she pushes him down and lays on her side of the bed before pulling him over her, letting him hear the beating of her heart, his head on her chest and she can feel him calming down as he listens to her heart beat, and she hums a melody softly, runs her fingers through his hair repeatedly. She loves him… she loves him so.

“Don’t ever leave me… please,” he mumbles and she looks so taken aback but nods slowly.

“I’m never leaving. I’m not going anywhere, Stiles.”

“I love you.”

“I love you even more.”

“I love you the most.”

“You got me there, didn’t you?”

He nods, their voices soft and her’s was caring. God she loved him.

 

Previous to entering her room Lydia had been upstairs with some women and they had been talking. They all had crazy sex stories galore, they all had things to say about men and most of them weren’t pleasant. “He only sticks around for the kids, but as if he really cared about our kids. I’d rather just kick him out of the house until he learns how to treat his wife.”

“Oh please, Olive, it’s the sex not the kids.”

“He’s having sex with other women! Sucking him dry all the time.”

“Doing what?” Lydia asks.

“You know, using their mouths on his Penis?”

“That’s something you can do?”

“Well hasn’t your husband ever gone down on you?”

“Well… once he has a couple times.”

“She’s still fresh to these things. Don’t overwhelm her Olive.”

“Well I’m just letting her know Betsy.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever thought of that,” Lydia says.

“Well somebody ought’a give you a course.”

“Oh you’re killing me!” This one redhead cries. “She really hasn’t ever heard of it?”

“No I haven’t.”

“Who cares? He’s going to dump you the minute he sees another beauty. Probably going to quit loving you once you pop out a kid or two. You’re useless to him once your body can’t be up to his will all the time.”

“He’s not like that.”

“All men are like that.”

Lydia looks down at Stiles, breathing stuttered, sad breaths against her breast now, he wasn’t like that. Those women were wrong. Though she did think when morning came she would have a thing or two to ask Brett so she could use them on Stiles later the next night, maybe after dinner. Though Stiles is breathing heavily, clinging to her, she just wants him to be okay. She wonders if he’s awake. 

“Stiles isn’t like that,” she had told them and all the women scoffed.

“You’ll see.”

She didn’t think she would see. Men who only wanted to use women weren’t like this, she knew from experience. Jackson didn’t trust her with himself this much- he didn’t turn to her when the night got bad, when his dreams haunted him, when he needed a shoulder to cry on. She didn’t remember Jackson ever being vulnerable with her- Stiles opened up like this in a way nobody else knew of him, he was fragile when everybody thought he was steel armor. Lydia thought the bravest thing he could do was admit his fears to her. She loved him. And he loved her beyond anything she could have imagined, she never expected anything of him- not his heart and certainly not his vulernability. But he gave it to her, with less hesitation than anticipated and she thinks that Stiles had always needed somebody, and he needed somebody who wasn’t going to leave him when he showed the imperfections that scarred his skin and his mind and his entire being.

She kisses his head and she could almost feel him smile. “I love you Stiles,” she mumbles before falling asleep and Stiles lets her. 

The next morning he’s gone and she goes out to find Brett, who’s in his bunk at the end of the hall. “I have a question,” she says, Miss Blake sitting on her own bunk, watching.

“What’s that?”

“How do you… how would I use my mouth on Stiles? Like… in his…” she gestures and Brett scoffs, Jennifer seems disgusted and perplexed. 

“I mean… I’ve had it done to me before, but I’ve never really done it.”

“Not even with Stephen?”

“It wasn’t something we ever got around to doing. He didn’t much like the idea of it.”

“Ah I see… Well can’t you give me any pointers based on what you’ve seen?”

“Why am I the whore of the family here?”

“Because you are,” Jennifer cuts in and Lydia nods in agreement and Brett pouts.

“I don’t know… kiss him up a little. Do a lot of sucking.”

“Sucking?”

“Yeah, you need to suck a little. Can’t really penetrate him with your tongue… Unless- well no that’s a different story, you’re too innocent.”

“I don’t want to know. Speaking of, have you seen Stiles at all?” 

“Well he disappeared last night and I hadn’t seem em since. What happened anyways?”

“I think he was going through something.”

“Why?”

“Just a feeling.”

Brett nods and he doesn’t pry beyond that, it must have been personal. Lydia thanks Brett before turning to leave and she heads upstairs to find Stiles. He's one of the very few people that are up there, and he’s leaning against the railing in her spot- his back is to her and she approaches him, slipping under his arms and nestling against his chest. He seems lost in thought, he doesn’t even seem to flinch when she puts herself there and she wonders if he even notices her there. 

“Good Morning Beautiful Man.”

“Good Morning Beautiful Woman.”

“How are you feeling?”

“Kind of drained… kind of weird.”

“Weird how?”

“Like… strange.”

“Strange how?”

“Strange in the kind of way that nothing feels right.”

“Did you just define strange?”

“I don’t know…”

“What happened last night?”

“I just… felt claustrophobic. I panicked and i couldn’t stop. For a while i felt like I’d woken up under water in the ocean and like I was imploding.”

“Lord…”

“Yeah.”

“Are you alright? Should I read some prayers on you? Get some holy water?”

“It’s alright, I just get like that sometimes. Also we’re on a ship, where would you get holy water?”

“Somebody is bound to have.”

“Alright… I see your point. But really, Lydia, it’s fine.”

“Are you sure Love? You got it bad last night…”

“I should only hope everything’s okay… I’m just worried.”

Lydia nods and watches him with uncertainty, leaning up she kisses his neck gently. “Perhaps I can ease your worry.” 

Stiles brow perks and he prods her side. “Now how do I s’pose you plan on doing that?”

“Well why don’t we go to our bedroom and you can find out?”

Stiles had the hints of a smirk playing along his features, and she looked coolly knowing, a full lipped smile on her face, taking him by the hand and tugging him down the first flight of stairs, to the second door on the right and they enter their room, shutting the door behind them. Lydia and Stiles make good work of their clothes, facing each other bared. She pulls him closer by the arms, and the tip of his nose just barely ghosts over hers, Lydia smiling.

“I wanted to try something…” Her smile falters. “But I’m not really sure I know how… or that I’ll be any good at it.”

“So you don’t have to try it  _ now.  _ We have time, don’t you think?”

Lydia giggles. “Maybe I’ll have to find a book or two on how to please your husband.”

“I mean-” he glances down at her body and shrugs his left shoulder. “I think I’m pretty pleased right now.”

Lydia giggles and kisses him softly, Stiles kissing back. “That’s not what I meant.”

“I don’t know what you’re trying to prove- our sex hasn’t exactly grown boring yet.”

“I mean sure but there’s-”

“Get creative when we’ve run out of our own ideas, okay?” 

He grins and she sort of pouts, holding back a smile. Though she nods and kisses him, her bare breasts pressing to his bare chest, his hands on her waist, her arms lazily leaning over the slope of his shoulders, hands dangling as they kiss. Stiles turns her and she twists so her back faces they edge of the bed, their kisses sloppy, their hands wandering and looking to touch. Her own are slowly tracing down the expanse of her chest and she pushes him just slightly as she collapses on her tush on the edge of the bed, her hands falling to trace his arms as they kiss, Lydia pulling him down over her, Stiles parting with a smile, moving to kiss down her neck.

Lydia adjusts, her hips rocking up just slightly, ghosting over his cock and she hears him take in a sharp breath over his skin- Lydia loves, the effect she has on him, sitting up on her elbow, eyes shutting as she indulges in his touch. Her hands running through his hair, wearing a content smile, and his hands trace about her thighs, ghosting on the insides of them and dancing on her skin, his knee gently parting her leg as his fingers ghost her lips and Lydia bites her lip, waiting patiently. 

“You okay?” 

She nods in return, and he kisses the corner of her mouth, before pressing a finger in, Lydia holding onto him as a sigh escapes her. It’s a gentle kind of movement, his fingers working her up, one then another and theres a curious third that never quite makes it’s way inside her (though she wouldn’t have minded it, really), and her head falls back to the bed, as he kisses generously at his neck. Licking and sucking and biting all over, she thinks that he might have left a mark on her left breast from sucking so diligently on the underside of it. 

Though once she’s ready, he pulls her to the edge and he preps himself at her entrance, one hand at her thigh and the other heavy on her hip and she rocks forward, trying to have a bit of control in the situation (and maybe she wasn’t the dominant type, but she wouldn’t mind being the one on top every once in awhile), Stiles lets out a breathy chuckle, and they both sort of go silent with awe as he pushes in, the two instinctively leaning over to meet each other in a sort of kiss. Each time felt new, and Lydia felt almost refreshed with his touch. 

  
  


One might have thought they’d only disappeared for half of an hour, though as the day goes by, Mary ends up wondering where on earth her friend could be. She’s sitting with Olive and Bethany, the two young women about her age were crocheting little baby booties for Bethany, who was pregnant with a baby. Green for neutrality, or something like that. Mary glances around, trying to see if she could spot Lydia anywhere, she’d learned to lean on her for comfort in moments of uncomfortableness around the other women. Though she couldn’t see her at all.

“Have any of you seen Lydia today?”

“No I thought perhaps she’d slept in,” Olive said, looking up from her knitting. Mary nods. 

“It’s about three o’clock. Maybe she doesn’t feel very well. Perhaps you should go check on her dear?” 

Mary nods and she leaves to go downstairs. It’s about three o’clock, the air had grown a bit dense and humid, though it’s cooler on the inside of the boat. She looks down the dark hallway with spotted candles lit, and walks towards the room, stopping outside the door. She’s about to knock when she hears an obscene, very girlish, very dirty  _ moan  _ come from inside the room, and shushing following afterwards, there’s a very prominent creaking of the bed, she notes and blinking at the doorway, she thinks that Lydia is really quite fine- before turning on her heels and rushing upstairs to the free air of the open deck, going back to where Olive and Bethany were.

“That was quick.”

“I think Lydia’s busy.”

“Busy?” Bethany asks and Mary gives them a look and both women connect the dots, bursting into laughter.

“Oh the girls  _ busy!  _ Well that’s certainly something to pass the time,” Olive comments and they both cackle.

“She does have a sex drive after all! You’d think how shy she is to go into detail about her sex life, you’d think her husband never touches her at all.”

“Well he seems to be doing a lot of touching  _ right now.  _ At least, that’s what it sounded like.”

“Those doors are thick, you could hear through them?”

“It wasn’t hard.”

The other two laugh. “Somebody is going to have to spill some details tonight.”

“I mean, he’s lean as hell Olive, you seen his arms?”

“He’s pretty, that’s easy to admit,” Olive agrees.

 

Lydia collapses on the bed, Stiles beside her, the two forehead to forehead, panting. A thought comes to mind and she bursts into giggles. 

“What is it?” he asks her.

“I remembered something funny.”

“What did you remember?”

“There’s this lady who works at a whore house, right? This real nice redhead kind of woman- a bit old too, like you’d think she might be young but she’s really not.”

“Right…” he nods.

“And well I was telling her the story about the dog that was on my roof, you the one that’s really quite funny? Well I was tellin her all about it and she goes ‘you’re killing me! You’re killing me! There was a dog on the roof? You’re killing me!’ waving her arms all about and all. It was hilarious.”

Stiles laughs at her impression, watching her shake her hands a bit, trying to express what had happened. Lydia shimmies a bit before they both burst into giggles, leaning into each other. Lydia pulls into her arms, one leg wrapping around his waist and he kisses her. 

“Are you feeling any better?” She mumbles, the slow, consistent rocking of the boat ever present, even as they lay still.

“You tend to make me happy…”

Lydia gives him an award winning smile, kissing him softly, Stiles parting from her and leaning his head against her shoulder. “Wanna hear another story about the whore lady?”

“It’d be my pleasure,” he teases.

“Alright, alright, so we were just talking and she leans into me and she starts telling me all about how sex with women isn’t all so bad and I was like ‘well you know, I’ve got a husband so I think I’ll pass on the offer’ and she starts telling me like ‘oh you really ought’a try it,’” Lydia dives in, imitating the womens deeper, more rough sounding voice and Stiles giggles, watching his bubbly wife explain the situations with the other women. Story after crazy story of crazy people. Most of whom he’d never met. The pregnant Bethany and her dear friend Olive strike him as his favorite of the two in her stories.

“I would say I want to meet them but I really don’t. I doubt their husbands are as delightful- or perhaps they are and I know them.”

“Oh you might,” Lydia agrees. Stiles nods and she kisses him, her wet center pressing to his stomach. Stiles runs a hand through her hair, pulling a small knot out as he did so, repeating the motion throughout, combing her hair with his fingers. She giggles as he parts, becoming determined to undo the knots in her hair. He leans over her a little trying to look at the back of her head, undoing each knot.

“Ow! That one hurt.”

“Sorry… I’m just trying to fix your hair.”

“At least get the brush.”

“This is a fine tactic.”

She nods a bit and let’s him take the other knots out, wincing occasionally. “What about you? Anybody interesting you’ve met?”

“They’re all the same. Every man raves politics while smoking. I hate smoking. I did it once, the first day and I decided that I didn’t smoke for a reason. I’ll just stick to selling it.”

Lydia laughs and laughs, turning to lay on her stomach, pulling her hair over her shoulder. “Massage me?”

“Sure…” he agrees, moving to a comfortable position to massage her back, working away at the knots in her muscles. Lydia was content as she ever could be. Really she was. She thinks that she says it a lot, that she’s so content and so happy, but she is. She doesn’t know what else she could say when she was with Stiles, he was perfect- even all his imperfections were perfect. Everything was perfect. Her life was perfect and she would never trade it for anything else. 


	45. Brief history on weddings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Victorian weddings!  
> also the new chapter is in works

Victorian wedding's were well thought out, processed and intricately planned events. The wedding day was arranged in a way that today we might not have thought of. Most people now-a-day's will marry in their favorite or more convient months, and also normally marry anywhere Friday-Sunday because that's when people have days off. This was normally not the case in the Victorian era. 

Sayings and poems, some of them spotted through the wedding chapter, upheld these ideas of what days were fortunate and what days were not. A poem regarding the days of the week went as so: "Marry on Monday for Health, Marry on Tuesday for Wealth, Marry on Wednesday, the best day of all, Thursday for Crosses, Friday for losses, Saturday for no luck at all." Also many marriages happened in June, the month being named after the roman goddess of marriage, Juno. They believed it was the best month to get married. February, April and September were also considered to be very lucky months. February for the upcoming of spring, April because a brides flowers were in season and September because it was harvest season. Though there was a saying, "Marry in May, rue the day. Marry in September's shine, your living will be rich and fine." 

Stiles and Lydia married in March, which is a neutral month, there was no saying nor superstition regarding the month of March, that i had found anyways. Also March is typically the month of lent, so it was blessed in itself. 

The marriage itself always happened in the mornings, it was illegal to marry after the morning hours. So all weddings took place early on in the churches, which became decorated with flowers, ribbons and large centerpieces. The procession would go much like it did in the chapter. The couple would be wed religiously, then they would be taken to a table where they would sign legal papers concerning their marriage. The woman would sign her maiden name on her wedding papers and the man his name. Then, if any reception at all, they would go to either a public area or a ballroom in a house (the rich often had ballrooms in their own homes for accepting large numbers of guests for occasions such as this), then the bride and groom would change their attire from their marrital ones and attend the party in different attire. Lydia does not because she felt no need for this, also I was just very in love with the garb I had her in and thought it would be great to flaunt it all day and night.

The colors of the dress mattered! The idea of a white dress became popularized in the Queen Victoria Wedding in 1840, where she had worn a white gown. Though white gowns were common, not for purity though. There was a victorian saying regarding the dress colors of the bride and her bridesmaids. "White, Chosen right. Blue Love will be true. Yellow, ashamed of your fellow. Red, wished herself dead. Black, wished herself back. Grey, travel away. Pink, of you he'll always think. Green, ashamed to be seen. Men also were very concerned with their attire and though many turned to magazines, we see that Lydia and Allison take care of all the wedding preparations, right down to Stiles attire. This leaves him just to have done fittings for the suit. 

source: http://www.literary-liaisons.com/article003.html 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wish I gave her a shawl, I just reread this. ANYWAYS I expect she'd wear her wedding dress again at some point


	46. Chapter 41

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bedroom Hymns . mp3

A man who has yet to be introduced to the narrative and yet lies to be unimportant until a later date, should be introduced now. He hold heavy steps as he walks the plains of the earth, a built stature, with rounded shoulders and eyes that glew with a putrid fire, a spite for all the men who would ever dare stand in his way of gain; Even his white workers trembled in fear as he passed them, stood straighter when he entered, never looked him in the eyes or yet, looked at him at all- fearing that if they stepped out of their bounds, he would whip them until they bled themselves dead, shaking and trembling apres mortem. The black men wouldn’t dare step out of the lines of their gangs, each man would do his hardy work- and even then, sometimes he would step outside, pick a man he so chose, and he shot him straight through the head with a wicked laughter.

The devil with a charm that no other man possessed. Straight from the depths of Tennessee, a charm with a beautiful wife, a party goer and a party giver. His cruelty was matched by his followers, men who worshipped word at his feet. He was the kind that graduated West Point with the highest of ranks. He was intelligent, cunning, smart. He could even be mistaken as kind. Though no man had ever seen a demon until they saw him angry, a man who believed the wicked doing was his holy right and his holy duty, kneeling between the pews, praying before god the passage of way to undo the entirity of the negro race, enslave the chattel so rightfully burdened on the civilized white man. He who was so engrossed in his possessions, he begged to wage a war. No northern folly would destroy his built home and his built empire, a land that was his, the waning slopes of Tennessee. 

His future beckoned no insurrection nor disobedience, one might quiver under the sight of eyes that could shed blood with a simple look. Though one might even release to say that in all cases of due time, some men are destined to horrid things over others. He was a man that was destined to rue a nation of it’s own. But that’s something one mustn't go into yet, nothing has even unfolded to speak of what would refold soon after the world has unfolded it’s map that provides the plans of the future. 

And he knew himself to be no god but considered himself a superpower. A major general in the making, a man who was strong and determined. No man could overtake him and no person could undermine him. He enters the hallways of the Raeken household and he confronts the youngest Raeken, a boy of 18 or perhaps 19, a graduate of harvard he’d heard.

“Theo, how lovely to see you again,” he speaks and Theo straightens and he smiles. “How have you been?”

“Just fine Mister Hale. I had hoped perhaps we could speak. I have a few concerns and I wanted to be in the presence of somebody who had their life under control.”

“And what is not in control can always be reigned my dear lad. What is it you need?”

“Perhaps this conversation best be held in more private quarters.”

  
  


It was unlike her to be so utterly captivated by a young man’s affections, her heart fluttered by every word and every sentence. Though awkward, though unpoetic, they were sentimental, he meant well, and he was charming. His stories of the sea enchanted her, his script enticed her. She wondered if this is how her brother felt when he saw Lydia, or when he was with Lydia. That even distance was no distance at all. She sighs happily re-reading the letter given to her. 

_ My dearest Odette,  _ _   
_ _   I had just arrived home when your brother was departing for his vacation with his new wife. I assume she was the one with the beautiful red hair? She seems sweet, and you’re lucky to call her a sister, I know you’d always wanted one- considering that you don’t like Allison very much. Which is respictable and understandable, she can be rather rude, really. Though it surprises me Stiles wasn’t the one to marry Allison in the first place. They’re pretty close. _

_       Anyhow, I thought perhaps you’d enjoy a retelling of trip this past month or two. We had gone to the south of portugal and stayed in a hotel by the beach. It was really marvelous and there were so many interesting people. People like you’d never seen before. I know you love to read and I had gotten you a book as a gift, I want to give it to you personally when we see each other again. Perhaps I’ll visit you in the coming future. _

_     They eat a strange amount of seafood, really, and though I don’t quite often like the taste of fish, they made it in a way that it was quite perfect. Also their soups and stews are fantastic. You’ll never have anything like it- not in your entire life. One day I’ll marry you and take you there.  _

_       You should think, that them being practically a part of spain, they would be very similar though I’d beg to differ, they are very different. Everything about it is somehow contrasted to that in spain- it’s an entirely different world, surreal and almost long distant from this very planet. Isn’t that interesting? I thought it to be interesting. I bet you’d really love it there, and all.  _

_            Anyhow, how goes your family? How are your brothers and parents and grandparents? Is Kentucky leaning along quite alright? Do get back to me when you can _

_ With great love and passion _

_ Liam Dunbar  _

She gleams with joy, falling against the bed and hugging the letter. She’s inspired to write him back but doesn’t have the nerve to move from her place. She has so many questions about love and about anything attached, she wishes Stiles were here to answer them for her. She just wants to know that her aspirations are more than a folly or a whim, and she thinks that Liam is kind hearted and so vastly interesting. She only wants to see him now. She gets up and goes to write him a letter back. 

_ My dearest Liam, _

_      The sunshine of all heavens and light; what you’ve brought to me is a world beyond my very imagination. All that you speak of is beyond me. I have never seen such a world outside the confines of this country, and barely that, the confines of my own home and my grandmothers. I find wonderment just traveling down the street. Though you bring such an elastic realism that I know not of- you and my brother alike hold knowledge that I could potentially never acquire.  _

_        You talk of such beautiful things and I wish I could have seen them with you. Then we could speak of them together in cafes over tea and coffee. How should I love that you and I could be together every day of our waking lives? And further so in our afterlives? I should hope you and I are to never burn out like the stars that fall from the skies. I hope that we are to always be so endearing and subjective to each other as we are now. To be happy much like my brother is now, you’d never seen such a darling smile take his face as it does when is with Lydia.  _

_          I should hope that you plan to visit very soon, perhaps even come to attend the next ball- should the event pop up. I feel as if I haven’t seen you in ages! We would dance together all night long and nobody should be ones to stop us, no matter how improper or unseeming it is. I would love nothing more than that, and perhaps you’d even kiss my hand out of affection.  _

_ With the utmost of tenderness _

_ Odette Stilinski  _

 

It was around the dinner bell when they finally gave in from their sex filled day. Lydia dressed back in her clothes and Stiles was buttoning up his vest. She leans over to kiss him before she uses her roller perfume stick to roll the scent of rose and honey along her neck and her wrist, rubbing her wrists together to spread the scent. She also applies behind her ears, tucking her hair back, before deciding to twist it into a braid. Stiles adjusting himself behind her, and dressing. Lydia leans into to assess her features- her skin absolutely clear in the wake of her released tension, and she pinches at her cheeks to make them blush with pinkness, Stiles approaching her from behind, grabbing her by the waist and pinching one of her cheeks whilst leaving a very passionate kiss on her cheek. Lydia burst into giggles, holding onto his arm and reaching to pinch his own cheek as he does so. Though he dodges her and then he makes good work of the other. Her cheeks her flushed and pink when he’s done, the two of them bubbling with spouts of laughter happily. 

She leans over to kiss his still swollen lips, and she can still just barely taste her skin on his tongue.  _ How romantic,  _ she thinks before he tugs her gently and leads her outside. They eat alone together, in a perfect silence that is neither comfortable nor awkward. They share few sentences before returning to their meals- and Lydia wonders if he’d impregnated her and that if she would end up like Bethany. Betsy always made fun of Beth for being so pregnant and full, though not on quite on the verge of birth yet. The poor woman had it bad sometimes and Lydia pitied her, she did.

“Do you think we’ll have a baby soon?” Lydia ponders aloud and Stiles quirks a brow.

“A baby?”

“Sure, a baby. Sure you pull out often, but when you don’t, there’s a chance, isn’t there?”

“Sure and if it happens, it happens. We can’t change that.”

“Your mother would be so elated if I came back pregnant.” 

“Or even gave way to child while we were away. I’d be just as elated, really.”

“Would you really?”

“I would be… the best retaliation you could give me is a child,” Stiles cooes, kissing her knuckles gently and she beams a soft smile, watching him with eyes full of tender sentiment. 

“If only all men were as good as you.”

“If that were the case, you would never stay.”

“I s’pose you're right. I’m the one that got away, huh?”

“Perhaps you were… Perhaps we both were.”

She grins and leans over the table to kiss him, Stiles leaning up to meet her. 

 

Olive, Mary and Bethany are just a few tables away, Mary toying with her food. “What do you think they preserve it all in? It’s so strange tasting,” she says.

“Mary dear, you’re such a curious child,” Olive teases. 

“We’re the same age!”

“Oh posh-”

“Look there’s Lydia and her pretty husband-” Bethany points out. “If I have a son, I want him to be as beautiful as that man. Lord knows  _ my  _ husband is ugly as a troll!”

The other two laugh at the notion. “Oh he’s a beautiful man- though I think my husband is equally beautiful. He’s just sad,” Mary said. “Get’s all sorts of ideas and suddenly doesn’t want to be a rich man but keeps all his rich money. He’s tactless.”

“Crazy is what he is Mary,” Bethany tells her, sipping her tea. “I’ve never seen anybody kiss like that. If they keep it up some men might get slapped for being that good of kissers.”

“And you’re one to speak- your pregnant Beth,” Olive tells her and Beth scoffs.

“Yeah, but I do all the work. Did she sound like she was doing the work, Mary?”

“Bed’s don’t make those kind of squeaking sounds when a woman gets on her man.” 

“See, he’s got his marriage under control!” Bethany tells Olive. “Not a raging coward like mine.”

Olive laughs. “Mine is brave as could be but he’s a pudgy man. Loves to eat.”

“This must be hell for him.”

The three laugh, beautiful laughter bubbling between them. “Oh my poor man, I’m sure he’s just fine. He’ll be enriched when we go to my family in France.”

“Should hope so Olive, wouldn’t want a man to complain now would we? It’s a tragic sin,” Bethany teases.

“Tragic my ass.” Olive snorts.

Mary glances over to Lydia who’s smiling as Stiles is talking away about something. “How much time could they possibly spend together?” she wonders.

“It’s almost sickening how sweet and in love they are.”

“Evans tries to love me, he’s just sad,” Mary repeats. “And spose I wanted to try for a child soon, he’d be alright with it. He just isn’t very enticed lately.”

“Has he lost somebody? Perhaps he’s just going through one of those… oh what do they call them?” Bethany moved her hand from her swollen belly, waving it about trying to think of the word before snapping her fingers. “A mid life crisis!”

“We’d be lucky if he made it to forty three. I just hope he’s not getting ill or anything. The doctor just said it was a peculiar sadness.”

“Ah well he’s bound to get over it.” 

“God be willing.”

“Amen,” Olive concludes, popping a piece of bread in her mouth.

“Amen they repeat.”

 

Allison is swinging her sword at a figure, slicing through it effortlessly, its stuffing falling out onto the ground of the training room. She slashes figures relentless before picking up her bow and arrow, trained and fast pace in every movement with every weapon. Her body acts on instinct, as if she were actually being attacked. Effortless and beautiful and so… so graceful. 

Scott approaches her from behind and grabs her before she could swing around once more, Allison screeching and kicking. “It’s just me! It’s just me,” Scott soothes, his fiance panting and grappling at her daggers, dropping them before pushing herself away. 

“I could have hurt you!”

“And yet I’m alright.”

“Don’t scare me like that!”

“You were scared?”

“My heart prac’lly leaped outta my chest. God be damned I didn’t kill you when given the chance.”

“You’d never.”

“I’d be in sorrow the rest of my days.”

“You’re just talking talk.”

“I could have!”

“It’s alright… It’s alright.”

Scott steps forward and takes her hand, pulling her to him and kissing her lips softly. Allison receives it, though after a moment she kisses him back. Her hands ghost the sides of his arms before pulling away.

“I arranged for Dinner with Isaac and Lizabeth,” Scott told her. 

“Oh? Well that should be nice,” Allison mumbled.

“What’s the matter?”

“Nothing, I’m just shaken, is all,” she tells him and smiles. “Perhaps we ought’a be goin.”

“Course! Anything your heart desires.”

“To cut your through with this dagger is what it desires for shaking me up so bad.”

“Brutal.”

“As ever.”

“I only ever loved you.”

“And snuck up on me like the winters ghost! Shame on you!”

“Shame, shame. You’ve done worse, need I remind you?”

“Perhaps not.”

“Thought so.”

She scoffs and he gives her a look before they beam and kiss once more. 

 

It was later that night that Lydia was sitting with the girls. Mary, Olive and Bethany giving her looks of knowing-ness. “Alright, well spill it, what are you all looking at me for?” Lydia finally asks.

“You’ve yet to tell us your _ marvelous _ details,” Bethany informs her.

“Of what?” Lydia inquires, one of her brows raised in amusement. 

“Of your day well spent with your husband. You’re  _ limping.  _ We all know you got it handed to at least a couple of times.”

Lydia's cheeks turn a deep red. “I- we…” she doesn’t know what to say. 

“Oh spill the details, nobody's judging,” Olive insists. “Is he good in bed?”

“I think he’s good in bed… though I wouldn’t know much beyond my experience with him.”

“What about Jackson?” Mary asks.

“Oh… well he’s not really experience. His penis was the size of my thumb.”

Mary scoffs. “Stiles is any bigger?”

“He’s recognizably so.”

“Give us an estimate,” Bethany asks bored.

“Why?”

“Because it’s just things that girls tell other girls, silly.”

“Does he want kids?” Betsy asks. 

“Most men don’t talk about kids, especially not on their honeymoon,” another woman cuts in.

“Actually he said he would love to have kids,” Lydia corrects and Olive cooes in adoration.

“Oh he’s adorable! What a slice of pumpkin pie.”

“You could say he’s sweet as peaches,” Lydia teases and Mary smiles.

“Evans said one day he’d like kids, but I don’t want to push anything when he seems so sad lately.”

“Perhaps Stiles can talk to him and after the honeymoon in provence you two can spend the rest of the time with us? I had missed your acquaintance so much,” Lydia tells Mary.

“Oh I’d love to! We’ll have to see though.”

“Bless your husband's heart, is he real kind?” Bethany ponders.

“He’s sort of cold on the cover though when you really get to know him, he’s quite sweet. He’s the magazine sort of man. You know what I mean?”

“Oh the kind that are all sorts of cover after cover?”

“Well not like that. He just sort of has this image to obtain. But his heart is so full of love, really it is.”

“Who’s his family?”

“They’re the Dubrowsky estate.”

“Dubrowsky? Lord! You’re American Royalty!” The whore-y redhead cries from a table nearby and Olive laughs.

“Princess Lydia! All hail the Princess of the ship!” She calls, laughing. Olive was beautiful in a sort of way that was peculiar. She had a sloped nose and a crooked smile, she was missing a tooth or two and she had a long neck and a long body, she was very tall too. Her arms were sinewy and often just hung at her sides, she was bordering boney over anything. But something about the look suited her quite well. She had a small child, about 3 years of age, and how she lost all her baby weight was beyond Lydia, the woman was so  _ thin.  _

When she told Stiles this, he said it’s perhaps she sacrifices food to eat for her children and that she mustn’t be that rich if it was the case. Though Lydia didn’t see poverty in the lines of her eyes, just another woman. She thinks that when it really came down to it, all people were really just people. The woman's dusted, darker skin, (an olive complexion, believe it or not) was something that made her unique. She said she tanned easy from being in the sun a lot. 

Lydia thought that her acquaintance to Olive was one of her favorite things, and though Bethany was a tote to Olive, (And Lord she loved Bethany as well), she wanted both of them to stay in her life for as long as she lives. Both women were from Virginia, perhaps in the end they would end up together. Them and Mary. She hopes that it is possible, she hopes that no matter what, she will always have such quirky and lively acquaintance. It’s a breath of fresh air in a world with nothing fresh in it anymore. 

 

Theo faces his worried parents, his mother biting her lip. “I don’t know why you think that you need any sorts of training, there’s nothing to train for! There’s a lot that you can do just staying here in Carolina. And why would you leave? I’m sure Mister Peter Hale is a lovely man but I’d much rather my son stay home with me.”

“Then I can train him here Madame, but this is what she wants,” Peter told her.

“Theo why?”

Theo hadn’t told Hale the reason he wanted to train, to toughen up. He didn’t tell him that he was a homosexual and wasn’t about to admit it to him, especially not in front of his parents. “I’m lacking in some areas of my life and I think I’d feel more… confident in myself if I had it.”

“Is this a problem you’ve been having? Certainly we can speak it over first,” His mother insists. “And what about Martha? The wedding ought’a be soon. Surely there’s other options-”

“Don’t you trust me, Ma’am?” Peter asked. “I’m quite trustworthy, I’d never hurt him.”

“I don’t care. I lost him once when he went to Harvard and that’s enough for me.”

“I could stay here.”

“I don’t understand it. I don’t understand why he wants this.”

“Young men aspire to be great, and sometimes they must sacrifice things. He wants a more stern step and I’m a very stern man.”

“He’s right,” Mister Raeken agrees. “Perhaps Theo could improve with Mister Hale’s assistance and guidance. It wouldn’t hurt.”

She worries her lip some more before resigning. “If one misplaced scratch ends up on his body, I will burn you by the stake Mister Hale.”

“It’s a promise sealed and done,” Peter assures with a cunning smile. “Sealed and done.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like this chapter! I hope you do too! Comments appreciated!! :)   
> Also if you ever want to reach out to me, my tumblr is allineedcd.tumblr.com


	47. Chapter 42

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where's my love . mp3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahh I've only cried six times in the past two days because a one shot that I worked really hard on won't post fully on this god foresake website- HOPE AND PRAY THE WHOLE CHAPTER GETS UP!!

_ Day 15 (April 8th, 1859)  _

 

Lydia kissed up his neck sweetly, Stiles humming. “Lydia we just woke up, what are you doing?”

“Don’t you know what today is?”

“No whats today?”

“Your birthday silly.”

“It is? My birthday is the… Oh, it is my birthday. How funny is that?”

“Hysterical, really,” she jokes, grinding her hips down against him as she kisses his neck. “And I think I’ll make good use of our morning for you.”

Stiles laughs and tilts her head for a kiss, Lydia melting into him. The two leaning into each other as they kissed, her hands holding his wrists as he tangles his own in her oily hair. He’s got facial growing and it tickles her cheeks, making her giggle. 

“You have a lot of shaving to do,” she teases, and he laughs. 

“Could say the same for you. You’re going to need a full waxing down there.”

“We both do. Perhaps we’ll find a bath house.”

“Oh that sounds lovely. Hot water and scented soaps.”

“Bath salts for the skin. Hot wax, hairless sex.”

“Clean hair, no beard. Got I want to get rid of this thing so bad.”

She laughs and rakes her fingers through his beard, nodding. “I agree, it doesn’t suit you very much. And I need a manicure.”

“You don’t need one, you’re really beautiful no matter what.”

Lydia nods, kissing him softly and he smiles into their kiss, the two back to grinding, falling sideway on the bed as they grinded and kissed, holding each other tightly. His first birthday with her and it seemed like it would shape up pretty well. 

 

_ Day 30 (April 24, 1859- Easter Sunday)  _

 

Everybody had changed into clean clothes, sat at the deck in rows of chairs that were brought out. All sorts of chairs, put out for the entire congregation of the boat. The men and women gathered on the deck, humbly listening to one of the pastors read a sermon and then continue with prayers. It was easter Sunday, and they were finally breaking the fast of lent- though it had not been strict on the boat the first few days, though many people restrained from meats, alongside Lydia and Stiles, once the month of Lent had started. They all sat solemnly listening, Lydia’s hands laced with Stiles. A few chairs up, Olive and her husband were sitting there, the man was quite plump as she had described him but he was in no means too plump at all. And if she looked over a few chairs down, there was Bethany and her husband- he had quite the nose, really, it could be seen for miles and he had wide spaced eyes and a small fumbly sort of mouth- though she thought that with some getting used to, he wasn’t as ugly as he seemed.

She looks to Stiles and smiles softly. God bless her husband was not only handsome but skilled in all practical areas, and was the added bonus of kind hearted- even if frosted on the edges. She was glad for him and it seems her prayers had changed, on this Easter Sunday. She thinks that she will forever be satisfying to him, so she doesn’t pray to satisfy. Her desires have changed since her wedding day, the month she’s married him has proven to be something entirely different than she’d expected, and she thinks that he’s not different person, just a better person- unrestrained and free willed. She likes the way his smile looks on his features. The way the light catches his eyes. She thinks that her life will be plentiful and perhaps even free of fear- Stiles was a blessed protector. 

_ Lord save him for me.  _

_ Lord bless us with fertile and healthy children.  _

_ Lord keep us safe.  _

_ Lord if either of us are ever to enter the heavens without the other, it will always be him who deserves it over me. He’s suffered too greatly to enter a wrath of fire.  _

Stiles prayers focus more towards his family than his marriage, though he does save a few good prayers for Lydia.  _ Lord save her for me, Lord give her all happiness, Lord bless her with all goodness in the world, Lord Bless me with all things holy and worldly so I am able to provide to her always.  _

The ship is holy quiet for a few minutes and it isn’t until the pastor chimes an amen that the boat chimes with one too and the boat sets up a lovely breakfast of preserved puddings and jams and other good things, like rice and bread. Stiles and Lydia, as they stand and wait to file out, hold each others hands, Stiles behind Lydia.

“So I had been thinking and I really hope you don’t mind, but I think I’ve taken quite the liking to Evans-”

“The liking? You’re not about to tell me-”

“Good god and heaven, save your breath. I was just going to suggest perhaps him and Mary could join us in Paris and Italy. They were planning on staying in a different part of Province and of course, I thought, he was a good friend and that perhaps I could help him just a bit if say they travel with us.”

“That’s so sweet of you, do you really want to do that for them?”

“Of course. But not if you don’t want me to.”

“Oh no, invite them! Mary is such a pleasure to have around and she’d be so pleased to have a little fun. Perhaps it’ll even fix their marriage. They had a bad life in New York it seems, I can just tell.”

“Can you?”

“Oh yes, I can. I really can. Besides, I think perhaps she might be starting to want a child and you know you can’t have children if you don’t have sex. It’s just not how the world works.”

Stiles laughs. “Really, you’re such a romantic. I don’t know how anybody could see past it.”

She prods him and he smiles. “Do you want a baby?”

“Do I want a baby? Why do you ask?”

“You’ve been bringing it up quite the few times. Or are you suspecting your pregnant?”

“Oh I don’t know… I don’t think I’m pregnant, I mean, I haven’t shown any signs, not that I know of. Remember I should be getting my period soon this week?”

“Yeah I remember. That doesn’t mean anything though.”

“We should give it time… s’pose we’re not good parents?”

“You’d be an incredible parent.” 

She smiles, squeezing his hand as they slowly shuffle out to the open space on the boat. “The idea of a baby is nice,” she finally admits. “Though I wouldn’t say we try for one. Just… let it happen.”

Stiles nods and kisses her knuckles as he lets her lead him out of the makeshift pews. THey wander into the open deck and they go by Mary and Evans. Evans is a handsome man in his own sort of way, tall and thin, though not too thin- he fills his clothes but they hang loose from his limbs in some places. He has a slender, long face, with a sloped nose that’s sort of large, and a tight lipped smile, he has black hair that is usually slicked back and he has eyes that are fit for his face, perfect and green though full of tire and lost hope- empty seeming. Though Stiles approaches him with qutie the smile and it brightens the man up, and his smile gives Mary a smile.  _ What a beautiful thing, _ Lydia thinks. Women always find joy in the joy of their husbands, and a husband always found joy in the joys of his wife.  _ How beautiful _ , she thinks.  _ So very beautiful _ . 

“I wanted to know something,” Stiles begins and Evans seems interested, as is his precious Mary as she takes his arm. The blonde haired, blue eyed beauty with pouted pink lips holding onto his arm with rendered hope, smiling up at him with joy. He hasn’t smiled like that in a while.

“Well go on man, what is it that you want to know?”

“Well, see after the thirty days of our honeymoon, I wanted to know if perhaps you’d want to join us in Paris? Then accompany us in the house in Italy?”

“Oh we could never, not on your vacation,” The man insists and Stiles shakes his head.

“How much time alone could we spend. Lydia would be elated to have another woman to talk to. Miss Blake does like to keep to herself and her friends. She gets awfully bored and I wouldn’t mind good company, neither Brett I’d bet.”

“Speaking of your man, where is he?”

“Oh he’s off somewhere flirting I’m sure. He’s young, he’s impassioned. He likes to explore. He comes, he goes, he flits off in wonder, it’s all been news to me.”

“Is he much younger than you? You seem good friends.”

“And that we are! Though he is not much younger, he’s 18, and I have just passed onto twenty a few weeks ago on the eighth of april.”

“Why you did?” Mary asks. “Oh we didn’t celebrate!”

“We did,” Lydia informs and Stiles scoffs. “That day we stayed in bed all day was the day prior to his birthday, and the morning of wasn’t so bad either.”

Stiles flushes slightly but nods. “It was something else, I’ll give her that much.”

“Lydia taking some of Olive’s advice huh?”

“More Bethany, she does know how to be on top, hm?”

“Oh girls, you’re more lewd than men sometimes,” Evans teases and Mary giggles.

“Well if you’re not going to be the dirty ones, we’re allowed to be, aren’t we? Especially you dear Evans, you’re so shy love.” 

Evans smiles at his wife, who’s so bubbly and charismatic, how could one deny to smile at her? “Perhaps lewdness is best left quiet, dear. Nobody needs to hear it. There are kids around.”

“And we all know young boys are clawing to hear something,” Lydia teases, playing with the buttons on Stiles clean suit. It still smells like linen wash, even if they hadn’t showered for days, it was nice to pretend to be clean for a while. 

“Well come on!” Olive cries as she walks over to them. “I manage this is the best meal we’ll have for another two months. Get over there!”

The girls laughed at the woman who posed to be as if like a mother hen to them. “Oh Stiles dear, are you always handsome as ever? What a lucky girl, and look at you two- smiling all sweet and such,” She says pointing to Mary and Evans with a hand gesture. The four smile and let the woman, only slightly older, usher them away to eat. 

It was a peaceful day really and time went by fast. They had fun, by the evening some men and women were singing and creating music, a dance starting up. Stiles and Lydia, alongside all those they’d acquainted, were dancing the night away. Stiles could see Brett dancing and flirting with some young women, Miss Blake was chatting with the women she’d befriended and beaming brightly. They were all having so much fun- and Lydia thought she’d remember this for the rest of her life. Remember dancing on a boat with a whole bunch of people she did and didn’t know, in the arms of the love of her life, who was smiling so brightly, who was so happy. She thinks that she would never forget the way he smiles when he genuinely has something to smile about.

This was something she held dear to her and there was nothing more she wanted than to hold onto that night forever. It seemed their Easter was going much better than their Christmas. And afterwards Lydia and Stiles collapsed in bed, holding each other, already half asleep though smiling.

“That went a lot better than it would have at home,” he admits.

“Think so?”

“Mother would have absolute fits if we’d gone to a dance like this. Something about religion would follow in lecture of course and then we’d both be grounded presumably.”

Lydia giggles and tilts his head. “Goodnight kiss?”

Stiles nods and leans in to press his lips together. “Goodnight,” he cooes.

“Goodnight,” she mumbles, the two curled up, not bothering to change. 

 

_ Day 46 (May 9, 1859)  _

 

Lydia was helping Bethany up the stairs and into a chair. It was still early morning and the poor woman was bloated and dizzy, holding her plump stomach. “Lord if I ever have to bear a second child, I should pray you take me before it gets this bad,” Bethany complains.

“It’s just the atmosphere of the boat, Bethy, you’ll be alright.” 

A servant comes with tea and Lydia takes two cups. “Take my tea.” 

“You’re a dear.”  
“You need it,” Lydia defends. It was rather windy and the skies were rather grey, she feared perhaps a storm would come, and serve for a few rain showers, they had never encountered a storm. It was actually quite cold and Lydia was visibly shivering as a breeze swept past. She was back in the clothes that she had worn when arriving to the boat, just like everybody else, and it was a light material type of dress. Bethany was also shivering, though she held the hot tea cup in her hand, Lydia holding the other. She looks visibly pained and Lydia bit her lip. There were sounds of thunder starting to rumble a few miles behind them. 

“What’s wrong?” Lydia asks softly, taking her friends swollen elbow. There was some frantic movement since the past few minutes when the servant came around with tea. It seemed that the stir of thunder and the spur of the ocean was causing worry. Ship men were yelling but she wasn’t sure of what, the men were frantically worrying about. 

“It’s the weather, it makes my joints ache.”

“Do you want to come lay in our bed? They replaced our sheets yesterday and the bed is a feather mattress, it’s more comfortable,” Lydia explains, Stiles coming up behind her, draping his jacket around her.

“Stiles you’ll get cold love.”

“I’ll be fine, you keep warm, bring Bethany inside, we wouldn’t want to harm the child. Beth love your husband is looking for you, I told him we’d take you inside, there’s word of a storm brewing. Lydia you stay with her.”

“Stiles what about you?”

“I’ll be fine, I promise. We just have to put everything away, they told us to tell all the woman to go inside. Mary and Olive are already on the second floor in Olive’s bunk. Alright?”

Lydia nodded. “Bethany come on, let’s get you to my room.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m positive, I don’t want you to be alone.”

“Oh you’ll bring Alberto, won’t you Stiles?”

“Yes of course. You two go on and Lydia make sure the windows are hatched, alright?”

Lydia nodded, moving to give Stiles a quick kiss. “Also, before we go, grab me some coffee will you?”

Stiles nods. “I’ll do what I can.” He kisses her head before letting the two go, them like all the other women and children beginning to file into the rooms. Lydia spotted Olive’s boy toddling around alone and leaves Bethany to pick up the little boy. “Xavier, what are you doin all alone, baby?”

“I lost daddy,” he said, pouting and Lydia nodded, going back to Bethany with him. 

“I’ll take him back to Olive once you’re settled, okay Bethy?”

“Yes of course.” 

Bethany nods, holding the tea to her cold chest as she waddles downstairs and is allowed into Lydias room. Lydia lights the lamps on the walls before making sure the window in the room was hatched. Lydia took Xavier who sitting with Bethany and brought him down to the second level, finding Mary’s room, which she has sat in countless times over the days just so they could talk and catch up. 

“Mary? Olive? Holden lost Xavier, or maybe the other way around, and I found him alone.”

Olive stood and took her baby in her arms, kissing the young child’s head. “Oh thank you Lydia. Where is Bethany? Is she alright?”

“She’s fine. She’s in my room if you want to join us.”

Mary looked to Olive who seemed conflicted. “Would it be best if we all stayed together?” Mary suggested and Lydia shrugs. 

“There is plenty room if you want to join.”

“Perhaps we oughta stay here,” Olive said and Lydia nods. “Make sure she’s safe.”

“You have nothing to fear, Olive,” Lydia assures before having to push her way back up the stairs and into her room. There Bethany was lying and sipping her tea, looking uncomfortable.

“Read me the bible. The bible always seems to soothe me in times of need.”

Lydia nods and grabs Stiles’ bible from his bag, sitting on the bed and starting from page one as she reads to her. Calm and slow as not to scare her though as loud thunder sounds from outside, seemingly much closer, Lydia practically jumps but she remains calm. The pitter patter of rain is present outside and she hopes Stiles is making his way inside and that he won’t be caught in the violence of sea storm. She waits beside Beth and Alberto comes inside before Stiles, taking his wife in his wet arms. Lydia watches, tears welling up in her eyes and her breath catching.

“Where’s Stiles?” Lydia asks.

“I don’t know, I haven’t seen him,” Alberto admits and she bites her quivering lip, tears welling her in her eyes before moving to pull his jacket around her and sucking it up as she stands. They both watch her and Bethany reaches out before Lydia shrugs her off.

“I need to go find him, what if he’s hurt.”

“He must just be with the crew Lydia, it’s fine, sit and stay, there’s rain pelting like ice out there,” Alberto argues. “Stay here, he wouldn’t want you out there.”

Lydia wants to argue but can’t, Alberto and Bethany pulling her back down. Lydia crawls onto the inner part of the bed where Stiles normally sleeps and curls up there, into Beths side and Bethany holds her, kissing her head.

Outside thunder broke out, so loud it shook the ship and the waves brought them up to where it felt like they were flying. Lydia could almost see it- a ship carried in the air over the sea and she hugs into Bethany who is shaking in the arms of Alberto, who’s gone pale and Lydia is praying between thoughts that Stiles isn’t dead on the deck or dying in one of the rooms. That he’s okay. She prays that nothing happens to them, and everybody else in the ship must be. Though as they go on, it almost feels like the ship must be turning over, Lydia’s fear turns so great that she bursts into sobs, water hitting the deck from great waves that she can’t see, though what is normally leveled outside her window is all a matter of ocean water for a few moments. Her mind dicated by the worst. 

She hears the door creak open and Lydia looks up to see Mary, who’s shaking and shivering with Olive. 

“Evans and Holden stayed downstairs-”

“Is stiles with them?” Lydia immediately asks and they shake their heads.

“Nobody's seen him?” Beth asks.

“I’m sure he’s fine,” Olive immediately puts forward, Mary moving to hug Lydia. There weren’t many places he could go, though it seems that in times of desperate fear, you panic and seem to think of the worst. Lydia hoped that he hadn’t somehow got caught in the waves trying to get to her and was sinking in the ocean's depth. The idea, even the mere hope that he wasn’t tore another cry from her, and Lydia hugs into Mary who hugs into her, the two totally and wholly terrified by the shaking of the boat from the thunder (Mary thinks she was going deaf, all the could hear were explosions from the heavens) and the pounding of the waves on the deck, accompanied by the whistling of the wind. It was as if doomsday had arrived on earth, like no sea story had ever told it- that ‘dark and stormy’ was never catastrophic, though Lydia had never been so frightened in her life. And it seemed with even the candles there was no light shed on the very dark world.

She wrapped her arms tightly around Mary who held her head to her stomach as she sobbed vigorously, Lydia so frightened and so worried that she thought she might puke- the rolling of the boat wasn’t helping. Though nobody would dare to move now and a specific roll through her and Mary off the bed, hitting the floor with a thud. Mary cried out a brutal shriek at that, Alberto holding his ground with Beth so she doesn’t hurt the child. 

Lydia and Mary scramble up, catching the candles and blowing them out before they could tip onto the wood. They blew all the candles out and even turned the lanterns off, the boat rolling again as Lydia tries turning off a lamp, causing her to hold to the wall, anything just to make sure that she didn’t fall down again, and maybe even hold herself up. 

Lydia eventually sinks to the floor and just ends up curled up in the corner, her head on her knees, arms wrapped around it so her arms bruised over her head. The storm felt as if it was going to last hours, she wasn’t even sure what happened to Mary or Bethany, she couldn’t hear anything over the thunder. Though in a matter of seconds, the storm seemed to stop, and all of a sudden everything was calm. Lydia looked up and outside the waves had calmed and there was sun streaming in. She sniffled, her breath coming in shallow intakes, watching with red eyes, the door to the room bursts open a moment later and Stiles is standing there seeming drenched, Lydia jumping up to her feet and running to him, Stiles taking her in his arms and kissing her head. 

“We’re in the eye of the storm, we should be fine for a while. Are you okay? Is Everything okay?” He asks. “Bethany, Olive, Mary? Alberto?”

Beth shook her head, and Olive was about to speak, as Stiles moved to help Mary up when a scream tore from one of the floors beneath them. Lydia looks to Stiles immediately, Mary standing and Evans and Holden coming in with Xavier. 

“I think somebody has died downstairs,” Holden informs. “They seem not have hit their head.”

“Where’s the doctor?” Stiles asks, Evans taking Mary in his arms and Stiles holding Lydia who looks pale and frightened, as the other women. Bethany moves and goes to the washroom across the hall to puke. Alberto is close behind her. 

“It’s not even over,” Lydia mumbles and Stiles shrugs. 

“We might be anchoring until the storm catches up, so we can move with the eye of the storm. At least that’s the goal.”

Lydia nods and wraps her arms around Stiles, pulling him close, Stiles left arm holding her body and the other wrapped from her shoulders to his hand on her head, kissing her head before resting his nose against the top of her head. “You’re okay,” he assures, Lydia nodding, sniffling as she holds him

“Where did you go?”

“I got caught helping the men put the chairs away, me and a few other people-”

“Mister Stilinski! The doctor is requesting the presence of a lawyer immediately.”

Stiles pulls away and nods, kissing Lydia softly before bidding her goodbye. He follows the man who had burst in down to a room where a pale woman lay, her tongue edged on her lips and her neck horribly twisted as she lay on the floor.

“She rolled off the bed it seems,” he says. They were on the third class floor, cramped bunks and it was darker than it was upstairs. The candlelight just barely allowed him to see her and he felt sad, she seemed so young. Stiles nods and looks to the doctor for more inquisition. “I need to know how we go about this.”

“We are to bury her at sea as far as I’m concerned. I’d think the best way to do this is to get one of the staff members, I don’t much on the law at sea, I’ve never dealt with it.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m positive. It is certain she’s dead?”

“Look at her, she’s certainly not alive.”

“By nobodies fault I’m sure. This isn’t a case of murder.”

“Not at all.”

“Is anybody else knowledgeably harmed or dead?”

“Dead no, bruised perhaps.”

Stiles nodded and looked to the scared women in the bunk, a small girl on the bed the woman fell from. “Mommy?”

Stiles heart softens and he offers her his hand. “Mommy is… sleeping,” he tells her. “Do you have a father little one?”

“Her mother was the only one,” A woman tells him and he nods, his heart breaking. “Would they mind if I brought her up to my wife’s room and I? Do any of you mind?”

They all shook his head and he nodded, the girl looking scared as he helped her down. “We’re going to get you to a safer place, okay?” he says, the boat's rocking growing heavier. They were approaching the storm or perhaps the storm was approaching them. The group looks up when Stiles walks in with a little girl, who looked to him. She looked like she was still nursing, she clung to him afraid and he knew immediately she trusted him.

He walks in and the group is perplexed, though they tend to Stiles first. “Are you alright?” Lydia asks and he nods, smiling softly, a whispered ‘yeah’ coming from him and she smiles tightly. 

“What happened?” Mary asks.

“The girl's mother passed, broke her neck when she fell off the bed. She has no father, at least not on the boat.”

“The poor thing looks as if she’s not even a year old.”

“Perhaps just a bit over, she can sparcely speak, I imagine. One word answers.”

They nodded and Lydia moved to him, looking at the girl. “What happened?”

“Broke her neck while rolling off the bed, or so it looked.”

Lydia nodded sadly, thinking she was lucky it wasn’t her. She hugs Stiles arm that the child wasn’t balanced in and the little girl looks at her, blinking her big eyes. She looks to Stiles then before trying to hide away in his neck. “She has nobody Stiles,” Lydia tells him. 

Mary looks longingly at the child. “Do you want her?” Evans asks, looking to Mary. “perhaps we can foster her or adopt her if her mother is surely… passed.”

“She most definitely is but I don’t know who that’s up to.” 

“Do you want her?” Mary asks, biting her lip and he smiles softly.

“Mary she’s all yours but the child is scared out of her mind now- her mother isn’t here to hold her, perhaps we should give it a bit of time.”

Mary nods and looks to Lydia who’s clinging to Stiles. “Lydia?”

Lydia looks up, the group looking to her, Even Beth enters again with confusion. “We heard screaming,” she says before seeing Lydia’s pale face. “What’s with Lydia?”

“It just frightens me somebody dead is on the boat.”

“What?” Beth asked. “Lord have mercy, bless who is this child? Don’t tell me the deceased.”

They all nod. “A woman,” Olive says, previously silent. There’s rolling thunder in the skies above and Lydia moves to hold Stiles. 

“It’s a woman,” he agrees, holding Lydia and the child. “Bless, perhaps they were going to meet the girls father, I wouldn’t know.”

Mary looks conflicted. “Evans and I can find out, and if she belongs to nobody we can adopt her.”

“That’s fair,” Stiles agrees. “Alright, perhaps we should all stay here in case we get caught in the storm again. Pray thee we’ll be alright.”

“Amen,” Evans mumbles and the rest follow suit. They wait out the storm, though the captain makes good note to keep them out of it until the showers fade. Mary and Evans take the child and nobody protests them keeping her. 

Lydia refuses to leave the bed, curled into Stiles who soon has to leave to help take up the body, Lydia doesn’t go upstairs- she’d never seen a dead body before and although she’s curious, it’s not something she’s willing to plague herself with. Bethany stays in the free bunk in Brett and Miss Blake’s room, the beds there much more comfortable than the lower class beds. Alberto checks on her periodically. When Stiles returns, he kneels in prayer and the Pastor from before enters to wash his hands with holy water, so Stiles is not affected by the spirit of the dead that he had carry and it leaves his soul to rest from dreadful thought. Stiles thanks him and the man blesses him before leaving. 

He then joins Lydia on the bed, Lydia is still wearing his suit jacket and she clings to it. “It disturbs me that a corpse is on the boat.”

“Likewise, it must disturb many.”

“Doesn’t it disturb you.”

“Once I was at Matt’s house with my mother and his slave was in worse shape than that woman could ever be. He didn’t even look like a man anymore. It was like the corpse of an alien creature. Not a man. It was horrific… her death seems peaceful.”

“How can you say that? No death could possibly seem peaceful… she had a child.”

“No soul ever rests but in the long run of things, I have seen worse. I know it sounds bad but I have.”

Lydia frowns and curls up to him. “I fear for you sometimes.”

“Why?”

“You shouldn’t have to face cruelty with comparison to worse cruelty.”

“It’s just how things are. At least I didn’t watch her get shot and mauled by another man.”

“I don’t even want to ask what they did to that poor negro.”

“I don’t think I ever want to remember it. I doubt I’ll sleep tonight.”

“You and me both. Grab a book or the bible, perhaps it’s better to read.”

“S’pose you ain’t wrong.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> update: if youre reading this: it worked!


	48. Chapter 43

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> feels.mp3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay i know it's been like two days but my best friend slept over and it's been a lit two days   
> ALSO I would just like to say that this story is important to me and not only that but all of YOU are really important to me, like super duper important to me and I love that you all read my work and comment and idk I've been so sappy the past two days, I love you guys. I love this story. This chapter gets kinda sad but the end is happy!!!

It was still a bit gloomy the following day but there were no storms, Stiles doesn’t change but he’s due to help wrap and send the one off to see. They all agree it’s best the child doesn’t witness it. Stiles thinks there’s a stench to the entire floor, probably due to the rotting body, and he helps them take the body to a room with light in it, and they wrap it in a table cloth because they had nothing else for her. He’d never touched a dead body before, the weight of somebodies vanished light soils the skin on his hands, he feels like he should never live again- out of the due fact he’s carrying somebodies very soul in his arms. The idea that somebody, dead and lifeless, could lay in his arms, could be wrapped and put to their testimony by his arms- by his hands, was frightening. It was… twisted and so strange. He starts to begin to understand how Isaac’s father could be so cold and cruel- it was deeply disturbing factor of life to handle the dead and bless that he should perhaps never have to be in such a situation again. The stench of the body is no help, it’s a reminder that this person is no longer human, they aren’t anything but a body on the ground, a body in the catcher in the body of the high seas tide. Rotting and soul sent to the divine. Lying cold on the side. Stiles couldn’t think that it was nothing more than just a body, and they were all bodies waiting to die.  

“The funeral service is in a few hours,” the captain informs and Stiles nods, along with the other men. He returns to the room looking drained and somehow empty, Lydia is sitting on the bed waiting for him.

“Have you still not slept? My love go to bed,” Stiles whispers and Lydia shakes her head.

“I don’t have any black.”

“You didn’t know her or anybody related, it’s no big deal. You don’t have to go up there if you don’t want to.”

“I want to be there beside you.”

“Lydia… I don’t think you should go.”

“Why?”

“You’re frightened to death there’s a dead body, I don’t want you to see one if it means you’re never going to sleep again.”

“Good wives suffer beside their husbands.”

“And good husbands assures their wives never suffer.”

He has a softness to his eyes, regardless the empty smile and the kind of glazed over look and Lydia moves to take his hand and kisses over his wedding ring. “I want to be there for you.”

“And you can be but not at your expense.”

“It’s affecting you.”

“It’s just weird.”

“You never look so dreary.”

“I s’pose it all happened so fast.”

“Stiles I want to help you.”

“I’m beyond it, but I will always appreciate your kindness.”

“Nobody is beyond help… never.”

“I think I am.”

“My love is not beyond my help. I will always do anything I can to make sure you’re alright.”

“And I would do just the same Lydia.”

They were nose to nose by then, Lydia holding onto his arms and looking at him with hurt eyes, her lips pouted slightly. “You’re going to be alright, my love.”

“And you will be too sweetheart. But there are some things that I know will haunt you and I don’t want it to be because of me. I have enough on my conscious.”

“What’s on your conscious?”

“My entire life basically.”

Lydia moves to hug him, one arm around his torso, the around his neck as she kisses his neck softly, making her way down. “You have nothing to be sorry for. Nothing.” She glances up and his eyes have begun to shut and she smiles, kissing along his pulse, just to feel his heart jump when she kisses him and she smiles against the skin of his neck, pressing another kiss, her smile is sad though- her actions more for his comfort than his pleasure, and makes her way up to his jaw, leaning up on her toes to kiss his jawline and stiles smiles, leaning down slightly.

“I can reach,” She argues.

“No you can’t.”

“You’re all hairy, there’s no point kissing there anyways.”

“It’s a good thought. It was sweet.”

Lydia casually runs her hand over his chest and sighs, resting her head on his shoulder. “You have nothing to apologize for.”

“Lydia…”

“I know maybe you feel like the time you killed the man in the village after he whipped me, the conviction of my father, sleeping with Malia, the woman upstairs… I know that all feels like you had some fault to it, that it needs to lay heavy on you but it shouldn’t. It never has to… you’ve repented for Malia, you had to kill that man, you did what you had to do when it came to my father-”

“It’s more than guilt Lydia. It’s brutal… and I…” He hesitates. “I don’t know. I don’t… know what it is but it will always lay on my conscious, not to your fault but my own.”

“You shouldn’t have to feel that way.”

“I always will, we can’t change that.” 

Lydia looks sad and she just curls into him again, her head against his chest, listening to the soft beating of his heart, how he seemed to embrace her back and his heart seemed to soften its pace, how he was so close and so warm and he was only hers to hold. Stiles presses his nose into the top of her hair and he breathes her in, the scent of her oily, tangled hair, the way how even when she’s mangy, she’s not so bad. How her beauty shines through anything, how her kindness overcomes all sorts of things, but her kindness couldnt’ seem to heal the wounds inside him. 

Stiles knows that right now he’s just shaken up, he’s seen dead bodies before, sure, but he’s never had to touch one. He’s never had to handle one and here was, wrapping up a strange woman’s body and preparing to bury her at sea later, while her practically infant daughter is taken in by his friends. They don’t even know her name, she wasn’t christened yet- not even a year old. 

He had heard Mary calling her Poppyseed though and he thinks it’s a cute thing to call somebody. She was calling her all sorts of things and Stiles thinks that despite the situation, it really does suit her to have a child- it was Mary-esque, he thinks and he smiles because a child would be very  _ Lydia _ -esque. He thinks that she would look good pregnant, though her body was small and she would be the kind of pregnant woman that would be slim throughout, though she’d have a bulging stomach with a real child inside of her.  _ His  _ child, inside of her, and he could almost see her holding a sweet, innocent infant, perhaps the size of their palms, nestled to her breasts as it whines and suckles, in velvet clothing and squirming. He thinks that he really does like the notion of the child, but he was willing to wait. The notion of getting to getting the child is always rather exciting, he didn’t mind it.

Stiles doesn’t realize he’s grinning but Lydia can feel it, his lips pressed into a smile against her head as he holds her. “What are you thinking about?” she finally asks.

“How absolutely horrible you are.”

“That makes you happy?”

“I’m wrecked.”

She laughs and they lean into each other for a kiss, meeting halfway. “What have I done to wreck you Mister Stilinski?”

“Well Mrs. Stilinski, you see, just thinking about you really gets me started.”

“Started how?”

“Started in all sorts of directions.”

“And how did we branch from your guilt to thinking of me?”

“I was thinking of Mary with the child then you with a child and then how absolutely wonderful you’d look carrying my child, and then how great sex is.”

“Good sequence. That order?”

“Specifically? Yes.”

“Generally?”

“You could mix it up but it would be wrong and out of order.”

“I see. You really worked backwards there.”

“I did?”

“You did. You went from a baby, to a pregnant me, to sex with me.”

“Huh… that’s unintentional but I suppose genius works magical ways.”

She scoffs and he tilts her head to kiss her again. Seeking out comfort without admitting to it, he leans into her touch and he holds her closer than he had previously. He feels like disturbance still lies heavy in the pit of his stomach but he tries to block it out with his wife in his arms. It wasn’t so much the sight of the woman that disturbed him, rather the fact that people were no longer people when they were gone, that somehow something so solid becomes a material object that deteriorates with the rest of the world. He hates the idea that one day he’ll no longer be white skinned with flushed cheeks, but green as if a toad or a sea monster. He wouldn’t be human any longer and neither would anybody he loves, all dematerializing in the scheming pit of the world’s body- and he wonders if all things die, does the Earth die too? Nothing is forever and not only is all life temporary, but all vessels of life are temporary. Bodies are temporary, the oceans are temporary, the earth and the universe and the sun and the stars and the moon- they’re all living and breathing and eventually withering into death. Nothing ever lasts and what gets him is that, all things that breathe, will one day not breathe at all and just become objects. Life is not life when it comes to death and holding death is like holding the profound stake of passing on, as if handing the torch from earth to afterlife, her departure is his doing.

It makes him shake slightly, at the idea he’s willing somebody's soul away and even more so that it’s the ocean, where her body could be torn by beasts unknown to him and all else. He grips Lydia a little tighter and Lydia holds him back, she can hear his heart hammering against his chest and she’s no idea how to stop it. 

“What can I do to help? How can I heal your wounds?”

“Didn’t I tell you there’s no fixing what’s been done?”

“I don’t care. You’re afraid.”

“I’m not afraid. I’m just… confused.”

“Why?”

“Well confused is not the word for it, rather I’m very estranged by how surreal it is that bodies are really just… well it’s hard to explain. It’s like, it’s not even real.”

“I suppose that’s a bit rattling.”

“You wouldn’t really understand unless you saw it. But I don’t want you to, you have no reason to understand.”

“You’ve seen the dead before.”

“Seeing it and handling it are two different things. It’s chilling in an instinctual way. You can’t help but feel so…  _ surreal  _ after having handled a dead body. It’s a strange thing really- killers are killers are the way they are for a reason, nothing scares them. They lack that complex of depth and empathy. Men who bury bodies are horrible for a reason. They’ve seen some things beyond them, souls haunt them.”

“I guess that’s something you never really think about.”

“I’m thinking about it now.”

She nods and she smoothes the plain of his shirt, kissing the curve of his neck. “What can I do to ease your mind?”

“Nothing… just be here for me.”

“That doesn’t seem to be workin on ya.”

“It’s workin just fine Lydia.”

Lydia looks at him with disbelief in her eyes, a brow raised and she drags him to the bed and sits down, inviting him over her for a kiss. “Is this the best time, Lydia?”

“You need to stop overworking yourself. Take a nap with me.”

Stiles was about to speak but she pressed a finger to his lips. “God has a will for things and they happen, it happened because it was what he wanted it to happen. There was nothing we could do to stop it, alright? Life ends and others continue and others start. It’s just how things are.”

Stiles nods and Lydia kisses him again, their eyes closing as they fall against the bed, lydia pushing him back so she can nestle up on top of his body and Stiles eyes shut he’s asleep within minute, Lydia watching him with soft eyes. He was so troubled and so caught up, and though she was thoroughly shaken, she knew that things like this happen and that life should plausibly go on with no reason to stop. She doesn’t know why he thinks himself into fits of worry, but then she doesn’t know much about him at all. 

 

By the time he woke up and returned upstairs they were preparing the service. She was on a table and there were people gathered around, just staring and whispering. Nobody really cared, and he knows that nobody really cares. Stiles can see the confusion and interest on young childrens faces. How they were perplexed and astonished by the cloth that seemed to hide something, though their parents seemed sad and Stiles felt so angry because nobody cared,  _ he  _ didn’t care. He didn’t know why things had to be like this, why he was so heartless, why he couldn’t care for somebody that was dead.

He was heartless and cold. If it were his brother, it wouldn’t make a difference. “What’s the look for?” Holden asks and Stiles looks to him and shrugs.

“I feel heartless for not caring about her.”

“You didn’t know her, there’s no reason it should affect you so much as to care.”

“But she’s not even living anymore.”

“And if she was living would it make a difference now?”

Stiles bites his lip and thinks for a minute. “Not to me.”

“So her death doesn’t make a difference to you either.”

Stiles nods and thinks for a minute. “Perhaps I was just raised on too much sentiment.” He thinks to his mother and how soft hearted she was, but also how strong he was. Sentiment wasn’t a bad thing, he thinks that she is more than sentiment and that sentiment is not the only thing that makes a person. Owning sentimentality is something that not many could do- and owning sentimentality, even amongst bitter, cold hearts is something valuable; Claudia had told him that when he was younger. His father didn’t own any sentimentality. Either Stiles was a perfect image or he was nothing, there was no sympathy, there was no aching for loss, there was only image and pomp, a cover for the stories they’d tell. He knew that. 

“Perhaps.We’ll have to bury her soon.”

“Perhaps the sooner the better. Somebody once said no soul rests until they’re lowered to the earth.”

“Then she’s been restless for so long now.”

“Where do you think the soul goes?”

“How should I know? I ain’t no preacher.”

“I s’pose you’re right but they gotta go somewhere.”

“I don’t know, Stiles. You’re curious for somebody so stoic.”

Stiles shrugs, he never truly perceived himself to be ‘stoic’ at all, or even so ‘serious’ as some might call him around the boat. Though he thinks perhaps he seems less amused than he feels or even more so, it’s the way that he carries himself when he’s not around the men he’d acquainted himself to. Stiles doesn’t really say anything, he just waits until the service is over then he helps lift the body and they tie small weights to her arms and legs, then a strong, well built man (Stiles recognizes him from a few years back from a village- a lumberjack if he recalls correctly) named Stephen takes her body in his large arms (she looks like a child compared to him) as if holding a bride through a threshhold and dumps her into the vast body of the ocean: a body took a body down to end it’s time, a body in the catcher of the tide. The words are melodic and Stiles thinks of them repeatedly. After they’re sure the woman has sunk, he returns to his room and he writes down the words in his small journal. 

_ A body is a body in the tide, a body in the catcher of it’s time-  _ no that wasn’t quite right… he thinks on it, and he wants the words that he had originally thought but they come up twisted.  _ A body in the body of the tide, a body in the catcher of time. A body in the catcher of time, a body is a body caught in tide. A body in a body to end it’s time, a body is a body no matter the tide. A body in a body to end it’s time, a body in the catcher of the tide.  _

He decides the last sentence is the right sentence, and he’s not wrong. He realizes though that Lydia isn’t in the room, and though he’s not sure where she is, he figures she’s down the hall by Bethany. Stiles doesn’t put much thought into it, and he lays back into the bed and sighs, holding the journal to his chest, trying to think through things. He was at a loss.

 

Lydia just wanted to be alone, so she locked herself in a small, otherwise unoccupied room, hatching the hatch on the door and sinking against the door. She thinks that everything is very claustrophobic but not in a way that Stiles might have felt it- with anxiety welling in his veins, thoughts that captivate his head. She just felt closed in between walls, though she didn’t want to go upstairs and she didn’t want to talk to anybody. She just felt as if her world has been shifted, that things were perhaps shifting for Stiles- mentally- and that she just needed to breathe. Breathe air that didn’t really belong to anybody else. Just air that was hers. She’s just enjoying herself, just breathing, her breasts lift with her each deep intake and her head is tilted back against the door, around her is a shawl that Claudia had given her, and her hair is in a very loose braid. She thinks that the room is nice, and her world is calm.

Everything has gained an utter sense of quiet as she shuts her eyes and belongs to a world that is not only hers, but also non existent, precisely fantasy until the moment she gets there. Behind her eyes are warm summer days in the hill tops of France, fresh and clean and curled up beside a cleanly shaven Stiles- who she can vaguely recall the looks of, though it sounds appealing for him to have a soft face again, regardless of her remembrance. She hopes that things haven’t changed and that he won’t grow distant, but as of the previous morning, it seems Stiles has closed back in on himself. 

She doesn’t want to live in a world where all her progress should be undone by a small detail and she wonders if he’ll return to her momentarily after it’s all over. Though her thoughts are snapped from their places when a sharp plunging outside the window and she looks up, looking out as the cabin rooms have two windows, one too low to be a real window, and she sees an orange cloth hit the water and she moves forward curiously before gasping when a puffed face, with a bloated, green tongue shows and she moves back, rushing to the door and pulling at the lock before opening it to come face to face with Olive, her own pale and her eyes wide. Olive looks down at her curiously before taking her arm and smiling. “Well you look like you ought’a seen the dead, huh?”

Lydia laughs and nods. “Yeah… the dead.”

“What were you doing in there? Those servants wouldn’t be happy to know that you was in there, Lydia.” She grins and pulls her into the room where Bethany is reading. “Lydia was snooping around in the servant's quarters.”

“I wasn’t snooping,” Lydia defends.

“What were ya lookin for? Sex books or something?”

Olive and Beth laugh at her and Lydia pouts slightly. “I just wanted to be alone, can’t a girl breathe?”

“Sure when her corsets loose!”

“Well bless the holy lord, being pregnant means I don’t gotta wear one!” 

The two woman giggle like crazy and Lydia smiles faintly at them, her hands shaking and her heart hammering, she thinks she’s still white as a sheet. Everything feels vaguely quiet and dim as she remembers the sound of the body hitting the water and the abstractly pale, bloated face, with her eyes shut, a cloth that seemed to suffocate her, a tongue that was a color Lydia didn’t think one could be. 

“Lydia, are you listening?” Olive demands suddenly and Lydia looks up at them and shrugs, smiling slightly. “You okay there?”

“Yeah, I just… I think I’m going to find Stiles.” 

Lydia says but doesn’t move for a couple minutes and the other two just let her, whispering and giggling amongst themselves, Lydia just moves to sit down, she can’t bring herself to move. She feels as if she is dragging with roots in the soul of her feet. 

It takes some time before she resigns to her cabin and Stiles is doodling in a journal, she moves the journal from his hand to the bed and tosses the pencil somewhere across the room and just collapses in his arms. “I think I was better off having gone to the deck.”

Stiles nods and holds her close, kissing the top of her head. 

 

_ Day 60 (May 24, 1859)  _

 

The rest of the month was unceremonious, nothing exciting happened and nothing beckoned any attention. It was really quite boring, aside from the witty banter between women and talk between men. It all went on as if nothing happened, and though for a while Stiles had closed up, he soon reopened to his wife, or he was just as open as he was before and she thinks that the level of openness he portrayed before was minimal progress, and now she thinks that perhaps him opening up at all is great progress. Though she doesn’t resent him, not when he was trying so hard to please her, to let her know she accept him. And though their sex life had seemed to slow down, it was mostly due to the stickiness and the stench of their skin, they both just wanted to be clean before anything really ensued. 

Though time had proven that there wasn’t much that could get between the two. They had only come along to warm each other up. Lydia thinks that there was no grieving a husband did that a wife didn’t do, they rose and they fell together, with the steady pattern that their love was constant amongst all else. 

So now Lydia was sitting on the deck with the girls, all of them exchanging post numbers with their bags ready as the boat pulls into the dock. “I promise I’ll invite you over when the Baby is born,” Bethany promises. 

“And I’ll be sure to visit you frequently for company,” Olive promises.

“We’ll meet in Paris won’t we? I’ll write the three of you often,” Mary cooes, holding onto Lydias arm and Lydia beams, leaning into her friend. She was glad to have somebody to be close to- Allison was so shouldered and didn’t like company much, just like Stiles. She loved Allison dearly and though they spent so much time together, they also spent so much time apart. Lydia liked having the security of Mary, Olive and Bethany as women who supported her and women who she could turn to without insecurity or being turned away. 

“Of course we’ll meet in Paris,” Lydia assured, little Poppy moving about. A woman had found her birth certificate and registration, having given Mary the girls bags. Her real name was planned to have been Magdelena when in regards to her mother's Journal, the girl’s birthday coming up on July 2nd. “And you will christen the girl, won’t you?”

“In Paris?”

“Yes of course, it’s never go to delay a child’s christening,” Lydia advises and Mary nods. 

“I think I know what I’ll name her. Though it’s bad luck to tell, isn’t it?”

“Oh bad luck indeed,” Bethany agrees. “Oh are we landing yet? I’m so sick of this boat,” she says. 

Lydia nods, seeing Stiles come up with the bags with Brett, Miss Blake lingering with her and Lydia’s bags as she talks to Brett about something, Stiles seeming tired and sleepless. He had been awake all last night worrying over plans and the arrangements and all that- Lydia had promised to stay up with him but she ended up falling asleep at some point. She felt refreshed when she awoke, so perhaps it had been more time than she thought. Lydia stands and Mary follows suit. “Stay here love, I ought’a go see Stiles and those waiting us.”

They nod and Lydia moves off to go take a bag from Stiles though it’s rather heavy and he laughs when she’s weighed down. “Don’t laugh at me!”

“You’re no less fragile than you were before we entered the boat. You’ve thinned out quite the bit, in fact and you can see it rather presently in your features.”

“As are you,” Lydia agrees, grazing the back of her hand against his hollow cheeks, edging his sharp cheekbones. “Though… you do have very nice bone structure. It’s rather sexy if you ask me,” Lydia teases and he smiles, kissing her head softly. 

“Thank god we’re going to be bathing soon. My grandmother knows a bath house in Brest, just a few minutes outside the Port and before we left she had said to mention her and that we’d get free leisure and full luxury in the house.”

“Ahh that’s convenient,” Brett says. “I do get to be taken care of for once, right?” 

Stiles nods and smiles at Brett. “To your leisure Brett. It’s a very expensive, gorgeous place she  said. Has jade in floors and specks of gold in the baths.”

“Lord.” He beams and Stiles laughs, Lydia giggling, as well as Miss Blake. The boat was pulling into the docks, rocks poking out like small towers from the breasts of the sea, pointed mounds covered in mossy bits at the top, seagulls swerving around, and upon looking over one of the edges, there were fish swimming down underneath. She smiles as Stiles hugs her waist, their bags by their legs and she grins, tilting her head to kiss him softly and Stiles kisses back. 

“Listen, the beard is the first thing to go,” she tells him.

“Agreed, it’s itchy and I don’t like how it looks in the mirrors they gave us.”

Lydia nods, looking at him in agreement, nodding her head slightly before kissing him softly again. “In a few short hours we could have the nicest, free of hair sex since our wedding night. Won’t that be a good time?”

“Maybe we’ll actually be able to tell what’s being touched,” he teased, the two whispering in low voices. Lydia giggled and scratches the hair on his face, nose scrunching slightly. “I just want to bathe in some jasmine and mint scented water.”

“Mmm or honey suckles and vanilla.”

“Or those herbal orbs they put together and they scent the bath like tea.”

“Oh I’ve heard of them but I’ve never used them.”

“They’re very relaxing, also fun to watch deteriorate.”

“Think we can get a bath together? Like after we’re waxed and washed down?”

“Potentially, that would be nice. A private room where we can relax together, ought’a be good for us… destress a little.”

“Boats are quite stressful.”

“Truly. And I’m not opposed to de-stressing.”

Lydia nods and smiles, the ship pulling in along the dock and dropping anchor. Once the boat has halted, they all file off with their bags. Brett and Miss Blake meet them at the coach, Stiles and Lydia adding their things on. There were three horses and this would be the stagecoach to take them down to the house twelve hours away (thirteen at most), though they were being taken down to the bathhouse first. Stiles and Lydia sitting beside each other, the lot absolutely exhausted. 

Though the carriage drew forward at incredible speed, they were at the bath house in minutes, a tall man waiting for them outside- he wasn’t elderly but he certainly wasn’t young either. He stood tall though, with his hands folded and smiling at them. “Ah! You must be the children of Mrs. Stilinski, her grandson and now granddaughter?” He calls. “And respectively your help. I have promised your gram free service, for she’s done me a great deal.”

“A great deal?” Stiles asks laughing. “I’m Mieczyslaw Stilinski, though if you don’t mind me asking, what has my gram done for you for such a polite service?”

“She’s plucked to my amusement quite the few times. Wonderful company.”

“My grandmother? As in Caroline Stilinski?” 

“Oh of course, she’s charming! And awfully beautiful.”

“Old women are just charming,” Brett teases. “And his grandmother is so lovely, Lady Caroline is just a charm, an absolute doll, ain’t she?”

“Well… yes. She is. Though I assume you are all desperate to get clean and shaven. I’ll bring you all to personal staff members, tell them what you need and it shall be rewarded.”

“Bless you sir, is there anything we can do to repay you?” Lydia asks, and the man smiles a catty like smile before taking her hand and kissing it.

“Enjoy yourself. And enjoy your new husband.” He winks and turns on his heels to lead them inside and they follow him, Stiles holding Lydia’s hand as they strut inside the establishment and it is nothing short but incredible inside, with no comparison to its stone structure outside. The walls may be grey with stone but they are painted in some area, pictures hanging, shiny marble floors with jade tiles, there were pillars statured about, the marble flecked with something pink and some gold, Lydia thought it was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen, and Stiles thought it looked like magic. 

They are lead to four staff members and the nameless man bows before leaving them to it. “We’d just like to be cleaned, shaven and waxed before we’re bathed,” Lydia requests and the maids seem confused and Stiles jumps in, translating in french. 

“nous aimerions être rasé, ciré et nettoyé avant d'être donné un bain, s’il vous plait?”

“Oui, oui. Quelque chose d’autre?” the petit french woman asks and Stiles looks to Lydia before shrugging.

“Eh apres, s’il vous plait, nous donner un bain pour elle et moi?”

“De la meme maniere qu’ensemble? Avec elle un bain?”

“Oui, avec elle. Elle est ma femme.”

(The translation is Stiles asks in french what Lydia had asked, then she asks if that’s all, he requests a bath for both him and Lydia, the woman asks if they want one together because he had worded it strangely- and he hasn’t practiced French in a while, it wasn’t his fault he was rusty- to clarify, and Stiles confirms and claims her to be his wife. This clears up some concern, because oh the scandal Americans could be. Has he heard what his grandmother does with the owner? What a scandal.) 

The woman seems to understand and they are lead off, Lydia being taken to a grand room that was private, it had a lounge in the center and several different stone surfaces, decorating the entire room as it was, and the walls. She understood french but she wasn’t quite the greatest speaker- she regrets not taking it up in practice after her lessons stopped. Though she’s undressed and put in a little corner that is boxed in with a drain and three women are working at her body, scrubbing with scratchy loofahs and cloths, rubbing her down from dirt and grime. One grabs cold water and dumps it over her head, Lydia’s mouth going agape as her hands flutter up in shock, not expecting it. The woman don’t care though and continue rubbing her down- Lydia’s knotted, long hair being tugged and pulled and moved out of the way as they scrub under her arms, along her neck, between her legs, at her knees, her toes, her fingers, behind her ears, her face, until her skin is red more than it is white from so much scrubbing. They then proceed to take care of her wet hair, massaging soap after soap in, brushing it through with soap and dousing it with small rushes of ice cold water. 

A woman is grooming the hairs on her leg, and another is tugging and combing the knots in her hair while washing it with soaps and the third is manding the water. They are chatting amongst themselves while tending to her and she understands bits and pieces here and there. It seemed like general gossip as they washed her, soon focusing on her hair and rinsing it completely. Then she was taken to sit on a lounge where she her legs were spread out and they started at a pot of hot wax. One of the women left and it was only two of them. 

Lydia was a little nervous because she knew that it would sting, though she was willing to go through with it. Although many women didn’t find it necessary to be clean shaven in their neither regions by most American and Western European women, Lydia valued it as many had in the balkan and mediterranean areas- it also aroused Stiles more, she noticed, when he had more access to her body. She also found it sexy when he was cleanly shaven. 

Her body revolted at the hot contact in comparison to her cool skin, she thinks her hair will set on fire from such a great contrast. Though she doesn’t and she holds in her squeal, especially when the wax is pulled along with a chunk of her hair. It’s shaped so only a tuft is left and the hair inside is trimmed down to stubbles. She’s allowed to sit and cool for a few minutes as they clean up, Lydia blinking away the tears from her waxing, each pulling had felt like a special sort of hell. Though she made it through and with good meaning. One of the women came back and rubbed her down in some good smelling oil to make her soft, then some cream to add to it. She was offered a robe and she wore, then was wordlessly lead to a private bathroom, there Stiles was waiting, reading a newspaper and he looks up and smiles at his wife, who’s small and her hair, longer than he remembered, waved down in curls.

“You look sweet as peaches, look at your hair, it’s grown,” he says, Lydia approaching him and letting the woman help the man who setting the bath finish setting it. Lydia sits on Stiles lap, caressing his now soft and shaven face gently. Stiles kisses her cheek and smiles. “Smell fresh as daisy’s.”

“The slang is coming out… it’s so rare.”

“S’pose I just have been on my guard lately, you know?”

“Either way, you still have the adorable virginian accent. It’s so sweet sounding.”

“And you have the cute northy accent but it’s slowly slippin.”

“You think my accent is cute?”

“Cuter than when you start becoming southern.”

“I think you secretly love it.”

“I secretly love you but I don’t see you gettin cocky about it miss.”

“I don’t get cocky because I know it doesn’t appeal to you.”

“Are you sure it doesn’t?”

“Does it?”

Stiles raises a brow challengingly. “It might.”

“Don’t tease me.”

“It depends on the circumstance.”

“And knowing you think that I’m adorable isn’t one?”

“Not really, sweetheart.”

“Sweetheart? That’s one I don’t hear often.”

“I like it. I like calling you my sweetheart.”

“But I’m your wife.”

“You’re still my sweetheart. Never had one of those before.”

They both giggle, Lydia holding his face with both his hands.

The man clears his throat. “Le Bain est pret, Monsieur.”

“Oui, Merci.”

“What did he say?” She asks, watching them leave. “I’m rusty on the french, you’ll have to reteach me.”

“At the house, I promise. The bath is ready.”

Lydia nods and when she stands, Stiles holds her arm so she doesn’t move. “Look at your hair, it’s all the way down your back. It grew a lot,” he comments and she grins. 

“You like it?”

“It’s beautiful, like a siren or somethin.”

She giggles. “Oh I love when you’re this relaxed.”

“You love me always, peaches.”

She tugs his hand a bit. “Come on, I want to get in the bath with you.”

He nods and they shed of their robes, Lydia letting him climb in first before she climbs in over him, sinking into the deep, long bath and letting the pinkish, herbal water cover her up to her breasts, long hair falling into the water. She sighs, holding his hands under the water on her slim, milky white thighs. Stiles is looking around admiringly though her eyes are trained on him. Less than a year ago she would have stared at him from behind a pew, pondering how worth her attention he was and how she was ever to catch his attention and now she’s staring at him naked and vulnerable and high with happiness. 

She would never thought at that time she’d be sitting in his lap (naked of all things) admiring him. It was such a scandalous thought, to even just be caught watching him was scandalous, but now they were married. Of all things married, and she wonders how she got so lucky. A heavy sigh of awe and wonderment escapes her and lazy, whiskey eyes fall on her and before he can ask she leans forward and kisses him smack on the lips, delving into his mouth, licking into him, kissing him, admiring him as personally as she can, her hands wandering down his chest along his stomach under the water and he lets out a hum (what a delicious hum it is, she thinks) as she parts just slightly before they delve into another kiss. One hand wanders up to hold him by the back of the head, hand trailing through the long locks of hair. 

“You need a haircut.”

“That I do.”

“I love you.”

“I didn’t know,” he teases.

“No really, I… when we met I thought nothing of you except beauty… and now I get to know everything about you, I get to be beside you… you a wonderful man who is so much different than I could have ever apprehended: beautiful and loving and caring and sometimes cold to the touch, a man of all sorts of greatness- if only you knew how lucky I feel.”

“I don’t need to know, I feel lucky too.”

Lydia grins and leans in to kiss him again, Stiles accepting her in his arms- wrapping them around her and holding her tight. Their kiss laced with passion, hands wandering all over the place. It feels like it’s been so long since they’ve felt so ecstatic with each other, and as they part, Lydia thinks she’s seeing stars, her head spinning slightly. They’re both smiling and his thumb is tracing the edge of her lips to feel the full capacity of her smile, gently swiping the bottom lip before catching it between his lips. Lydia can’t help the grin that spreads on her lips when he does, causing them to part, Stiles laughing softly at her. He kisses her jaw, making his way down, hands cupping soft, supple breasts. Her thighs rest about his waist, ghosting his stomach and he’s slumped into water and she’s slumped over him, the two just enjoying the others company and worth- it’s something she thinks that they needed. Time alone, time to love each other, time to be like this without rush or worry or people to own up to. Just a few moments of quiet that didn’t involve the rocking of a boat and an empty ceiling that started to give her nightmares at some point.

It was just Lydia and Stiles, her head tilting back as she smiles, letting him kiss down her neck. Their pleased breaths of pleasure heavy, their hands gripping at the other, afraid to let go- no as if’s involved, just purely afraid of letting the other go. Of losing the other. Lydia had never felt more secure in her life, never felt as if things would truly work to favor her and she thinks that life has been kind- and will be kind to her. Even if she doesn’t know what is impeding on their futures, she is for now certain of her destiny and her faith- and that is to step up as the wife of the heir of Dubrowsky, to love and protect him regardless, and have the same faith be returned. They were secured by unsaid promise, lips pressing together again, hands wandering in dangerous territory. 

“I love you.”

“I’ll never leave you.” 

Lydia’s eyes roll back as his hand ghosts over her folds, hands holding his neck. “You’d better not leave me- no girl gets this kind of treatment-”

“None other than you.”

“Especially after Malia-”

“Especially after Jackson-”

“You’ve a point. But you’re my one and only, he’s forgotten.”

“And Lydia, the moment you touched me, I was purified of any sin.”

“Touched you how?”

“Just the simple touch of your hand.”

“And the simple kiss of my lips. I am your everything.”

“No other woman matches.”

Their lips ghost each other, breaths escaping but no kiss is exchanged. “I better not find out otherwise, Stilinski.”

“It’s a promise, Lydia Martin.” 


	49. Chapter 44

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beautiful world.mp3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tbh did I my writing lose it's older feeling sort of charm or have I just become accustomed to writing the story in it's format?

The time in which they arrived at the bathhouse was 11, the time in which they left was three. Their clothes had been washed and returned, each person newly refreshed. Stiles and Lydia both remained aroused, though the only reason they hadn’t had sex in the bath was because Stiles thought the pink water was very pretty and didn’t want to ruin it- they also got champagne as compliments from the house and he might have been a little bit tipsy. It’s been awhile since he last had a drink. Though the champagne did tasty like a sparkly heaven that captivated her taste buds, she thinks she should have gotten the brand name to buy some- though her mind had diverged when Stiles was kissing up her hand through the veins on her wrist, tongue poking out occasionally.

Most of the ride to their new house on the hill, Stiles and Lydia slept. She played with the curls in his hair, and Brett and Miss Blake napped occasionally. Though when they weren’t, they were playing games together. She taught him how to play these clapping games she used to play as a girl, and he taught her how to play cards. Miss Blake had come from a familial household and learned how to read, Brett had never  really learned reading and could only pick up on the basics, so Miss Blake read one of her books to him. (he thought it to be sweet really.) And though Brett was only sweet and Eighteen, Miss Blake thought him to be good company, even if she was sweet and twenty-two.

“Have you ever thought of a life outside the household?” Brett asks. “Like getting married or something?”

“Well no… I guess I never really have. I always saw myself being a ladies maid, or perhaps one day I’ll take over as the head maid in the household. Well paid, well respected. It’s an aspiration.”

“But what about a life?”

“This is my life Brett.”

“You’re family?” 

“I write them when I can. What about yours? You don’t talk about them often.” 

“Uhm… well my parents died when I was very young, so my sister and I ended up in a home but I found work as a hall boy and we split. I had no contact with Brittany for a long time, but quite the while ago, just before I came to this house we had reached out to each other and well… We don’t talk often. It’s kind of strange when you’re expected to love somebody you barely know. Even stranger when you can barely communicate due to a lack of education.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispers and Brett shrugs. 

“But I have a family. Since I started working at Dubrowsky the past two years, this household became my family. Stiles and Lydia, Boyd, T’any, Charlotte, even you now that you’ve started, you’re all my family.”

Miss Blake smiles and nods, taking his hand in hers. “I’m glad. I’m glad you at least have us.”

“Yeah… Maybe they don’t think of themselves as my family but I do of them…” Brett shrugs almost insecurely, a look taking his features and he seems almost broken for a minute before laughing and smiling at her. “It doesn’t matter. Teach me another game.”

 

It was a few hours after that, around four AM that they arrived to the small cottage on the top of a mountain, made of what seemed like a stucko finish and a panneled roof, Lydia noticed, through bleary, tired eyes that there were bluish window shutters, not the kind with cracks between them, but real shutters that were like small doors. They were shut in on the house, and thick vines grew up the side, it was quaint and cute. It looked over everything, she could already tell, and there was a lot of yard space- Lydia likes the idea of a child toddling around and thinks that maybe she would have to invite Olive to bring Xavier to play in the yard. Or one day she’d come back with her own children. Though, she also thinks it would be nice for barbecues (since Stiles loved them so), and perhaps there was a field in the back they could lay in. God she hoped so, and as they got closer there were cobblestones that ended at the driveway, a little wall in a sense and she notices that there is a stone walkway to the entry. It’s so small and so sweet looking, she thinks it’s perfect. 

As the carriage halts, she wakes up a sleeping Stiles, kissing his soft, shaven cheeks as she tugs his hand a bit. Stiles blinks awake, confused and pouty, his face fresh and soft with sleep and she grins, Miss Blake and Brett exiting the car to help the chauffeur bring the bags inside. 

“Wake up my love, we’re at the house.”

“Already?”

“You’ve been sleeping the brunt of over eight hours my dear.”

“I  _ have _ ?”

“You have.” She giggles and nods, blinking awake. The air up in the mountains was fresh and different, Stiles leans back with a smile, just breathing. 

“I could get used to this,” he says, seeming blissed out and Lydia giggles, kissing his cheek. 

“Come on, get used to it inside the house.”

“I’m starving, can we cook something?”

“Of course. The owner must be waiting on us inside the house.”

“Oh he must be. Poor man, hopefully Brett is receiving him with Miss Blake now.” 

She nods and tugs his arm again before starting to climb out of the carriage, moving into the fresh air, taking a moment to steady herself. Stiles follows, sleepily standing with her, looking at the sky and smiling softly. “I’m hungry,” he reitterates and Lydia smiles, taking his hand as they pace up the path to the door where the owner is talking with Brett. He beams at Stiles and greets him, Stiles shaking hands with the man. He brings them inside, tells them that everything is clean and furnished and it’s theirs to enjoy. Stiles and Lydia thank him and move with their bags in their room, Lydia closing the door behind them before moving to kiss him softly.

Stiles knows where it’s going, and he doesn’t deny her that kind of pleasure, kissing her back. He wants it too, mainly just because her legs felt so soft in the bath, he thinks he wouldn’t mind kissing them up on the bed, feeling the soft skin under his lips, hearing her soft gasps, her anticipation as her legs clench as to not close around his head- waiting for him to get to her core. Though her lips suffice for the moment, her tongue is warm and soft against his mouth, he thinks that her hands are nice against his breast, nestled in his arms, and he’s aware that this can’t be anything so intense or beyond the natural consideration of lazy, lewd movements in a bed that was meant to be broken in. Lydia seems to think the same, their kisses remaining slow but deep. 

Her hands move to push his jacket off and he lets her, starting to unbutton her shirt, letting it fall open, his hands snaking in and around to her backside to unlace her corset, hands diligently pulling at the strings, and he can feel her hands working at his buttons. Her corset slowly comes undone and her warm, flush body is revealed to the cold air once it’s done. Stiles hums as they part fully to breathe, Lydia focusing on undoing his clothing and pulling his shirt off. Stiles aids her, and he thinks her concentration is so beautiful, the way her eyes don’t veer from the task at hand, how she bites her lip, how her hands never hesitate, heavy eyes glowing with concentration. Stiles loves how beautiful she is, tugging her shirt from the waist of her skirt and letting her slip out of it, the two kicking the corset away and his head tilting to kiss down along her neck, hands taking her breasts and squeezing- she’s so  _ warm.  _

Lydia moans and he’s never heard anything that beautiful, he missed her voice when she was pleased like this, she sounded so sweet. So innocent, so pure, and it always sounded so intimate, something that was meant for him and nobody else. He meant it when he told her he doesn’t remember the touch of other women after she had touched him, the simple brush of her lips and all he knew was how absolutely loving she felt, how warm her skin was under his fingertips. He squeezes again and Lydia gasps, his lips sucking on her neck. Her mind is void of all other thoughts, all other things- it was just them. It was just her and it was just him and just them, in this room that she has barely even looked around. Though it doesn’t matter, there’s time to look around later, now she just wanted him and his touch. 

Stiles parts from her and pulls his white tshirt off, Lydia breathing in and looking him over with glazed eyes, moving to bend down and lick up from the trail of hair under his belly button up his chest, over the material of his garments and Stiles gasps- she’d never done anything like that, she’d never touched him like that, though his heart leaps when her tongue his firmly pressed to his collar and she’s sucking what would surely (later) be a bruise. He holds her shoulder, head tilting back and she takes it as an open invitation to keep kissing. Her lips trailing up his neck and leaving red marks along the way before tipping his head back to level with her, stepping up on her toes to kiss him flush on the mouth and he accepts it, the two sloppy and unpracticed due to sleep- though neither would trade it, the rushing relief it gave was something else. Lydia nor Stiles thought somebody's touch could elicit so much security, and not only security but relief, pure relief. Stiles pulls at her skirt and she lets it fall to pool around her ankles, only in her clean pair of panties, the purple ones with white flower and laced edges, her hands making good work of his own pants, the two stepping away from each other and he removes his underwear, the one piece like material, see through up to his crotch, his parts pouched in a white cloth, straining slightly with the start of a boner as he removes it and Lydia watches, the area between her legs growing damp.

He steps out of them and Lydia moves forward to take him in her hand, pumping slowly as he meets her in a kiss, a hand slipping down between her legs. He rubs generously at her clit, a small sigh coming from her, their lips parting for a moment  before meeting together again. Their bodies growing needy, touches a bit more urgent, Stiles parting from her after a few minutes of touching. Lydia nudges him slightly towards the bed.

“I want to be on top,” she requests and he nods, moving to lay over the covers and she crawls over him, legs wrapping around her waist, his hand on her hip, Stiles sitting up and Lydia letting her hands linger on his shoulder as his tip lines up with her entrance, her body sinking slowly on his length. Stiles leans his head into her shoulder, taking her in, breathing her scent in as he nestles her neck and rocks his hips forward. Slow and gentle, her arms wrapping around him as they press forehead to forehead after a moment.

Her own hips rock slowly, matching his pace. She just feels  _ full  _ and somehow aching with the need for something more- though she thinks that the need is what drives her forward to keep with the slow pace, to find relief in the touch even if it’s not what she desires, or not yet. Though her body didn’t think it had much will to go faster, and she didn’t think Stiles did either, his hips generously canting up to meet her occasionally, the two of them softly moaning and gasping, as if keeping whispered secrets untold before. His hands find purchase on her breasts, infatuated with touching them and holding them, squeezing and pressing, Lydia gasping as she rocks, raising her hips slightly before sliding back down, both moaning when she did, Stiles removing one hand (a cold wind taking it’s place) and knotting it in her hair, pulling her down for a kiss. Lydia meets him eagerly, her body willing as they rock to meet each other, his own hips pushing upwards, Lydia’s mouth gaping slightly against his as an obscene noise escapes her, only described as sinful and pleasured- yet so sacred for only him to hear, though the doors are probably thin and he doubts he’s the only one allowed that notion for the moment. He finds he doesn’t care.

Lydia clings to him though, pressing him into another kiss and he leans back, falling onto the leverage of his forearms, lydia moving her hips to raise off of him before sliding back into place in steady, slow motions, their lips persistent, tongues pressed to the other. Their flesh bared for only the other, their bodies pressed directly to each other, looking for touch over all else. Lydia parts for a moment, a low breathy moan falling from her lips as she sinks down on him again, his hand snaking down between her legs though she moves his hand and he looks up at her interest.

“This isn’t child's play,” she teases in a whisper to his ear and they both smile.

“You like it though,” he adds teasingly and she kisses the corner of his mouth. 

“I can get off vaginally like mature women do,” she insists, a hand running up the side of his face into his hair, Stiles thrusting up sharply and she moans a bit louder, causing him to smirk- she thinks that she wants the upper hand and no  _ way  _ would she release first. She started to move her hips faster, and he released a low, whispered  _ ‘fuck’  _ and she tsked at him playfully, the two laughing just slightly before kissing again. She had him and she knew it, though his occasionally thrusting had  _ her  _ and to her disappointment, her makeshift game was a tie- because just as his release came (no pun intended), hers did too.  The two collapsing like earth caving in on itself, hands grasping desperately, Lydia whining into him as he thrusted into her, ensuring she finished, just some time after he did, then they both fell into each other, Stiles finally falling against the flush bed. 

Lydia, after a moment, moves off of him and relaxes into the new feather mattress and it’s so soft she thinks she’s sinking. Turning her head to face him, he’s breathing shallow breaths and his cheeks are adorably flushed. “To be fair, you came first, so I won.”

“Won what?”

“My game.”

“I thought it wasn’t child’s play.”

“No it was adults play.” She grins as if proud of herself and he can’t help but grin back, leaning over to take her face in his hands and kiss her. 

“You’re still such a girl sometimes.”

“A girl that is yours. Besides, you love me all the same.”

“Childlike qualities are good qualities to have.”

She giggles and curls into him. “The bed is comfortable.”

“Aye it is.”

“Think the sheets need to be washed?”

“Well…” he glances down at himself, their release sticking to his skin and he shrugs. “I don’t think the sheets need to be washed but I do.”

“I can get some water.”

“You’d have to find the well, unless he’d put some inside previously.”

“Perhaps…” She nods, getting up to grab a washcloth from the small bathroom in their room, a small basin with some water in their, a bit dusty but it worked for now- he must have put it hours ago. Lydia wets the cloth before moving to Stiles and sitting down beside him, rubbing him clean and kissing one of his nipples, making him giggle. 

“That tickles.” They smiled wide at each other and Lydia brushes back his hair, Stiles taking the cloth, folding it to the clean side and moving to wipe her clean. “There was water in the basin?”

“Aye but it looks like it’s been there awhile.”

Stiles nods, focusing on wiping her up before he was moving and going to their bags, Lydia taking up his white tshirt and pulling it over her bare body. Stiles pulls his robe around him and ties it at the waist, the cloth resting on the floor until he picks it up again. “So… breakfast?”

“Of course! What’s on the menu?”

“Depends what we’ve got in the kitchen.”

“Makes sense.”

“I’m hoping pancakes are in our near future. I would love to just have a pancake or something that isn’t boat food.”

“Eggs… a plate of eggs.”

Stiles laughs as she nods, the two padding out of the room, finding their way to the kitchen in the very dim light of the dawn, the sun peaking out from behind the mountain tops, still low in the sky, the light barely reaching the house. It was shadowed and sort of blue like, the morning fresh and dewy, with birds chirping outside and the start of movement by animals. It was so similar but so different, so… foreign. She thinks that there’s a change in the air, the way that it tastes when you breathe in- more crisp and more fresh and… just so different. She couldn’t describe it, other than it being  _ different _ . 

While Lydia thinks of the air and what not, Stiles assesses the kitchen. There were lamps hanging from the ceiling and he could just barely make out baby blue cabinets, in the dark of the half lit house, the sun rising from the front. There was a stove and a wash basin, a medium sized ice box to store foods in, wooden countertops and wall paper walls. It’s quaint and it’s very simple- nothing at all like the large kitchen in his own household. Everything was so simple in the house, he thinks, nothing like he’d ever had to live in before. Even Isaac’s house was bigger than this. Though he didn’t mind it so much, it was quite nice, and he thinks that he could get used to it. 

Stiles then goes about rifling through the contents of the kitchen, is able to scrap up ingredients for eggs and pancakes. Just how T’any taught him, and he whips them together in a bowl, Lydia watching him, turning an oil lamp on and sitting on a countertop, just watching him cook. He was just so pretty sometimes, even if he seemed a little graceless and fumbly, he had a charm to him no matter what- it got her, it really did. Caught her between the lungs and latched onto the veins that stemmed from it, the way he was just so  _ Stiles  _ and not like anybody else was enough to suffocate her, was enough to kill her. 

He was something nobody else was. Something beautiful and something kind, something cold and something divine. He was like nobody else was, she thinks he is purely unique, unlike others would be. Stiles simply doesn’t even seem to notice, he’s just going about the motions, just wandering around the kitchen half naked, only in his red and black silk robe that fell to his knees, bare feet padding against the floor, his hands sort of trembling and his eyes sort of droopy, though he seems altogether, very awake and very dreamy- in the sense that he was lost in his own world rather than focused on the task at hand. 

Lydia leans over and kisses him, smiling slightly. “Who could ever ask for a better man than you?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shorter chapter- life has just been a bit hectic the past few days. What have I been doing? Well I applied for a job two days ago, then yesterday I sat in a room for two hours just to pee in a cup for a drug test, also been fasting, went to the last friday prayer in Ramadan, which is coming to an end sadly- Wednesday is my holiday. I also my friend got us tickets to see TOP!! Uhm, oh and I've been fighting White Racists on tumblr. It's been interesting. I also went from speaking arabic to french to my great uncle and the poor man was confused while my dad and grandfather were cracking up - it was embarassing. ANYWAYS please leave comments, they make my life better <3


	50. Chapter 45

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> drunk in love .mp3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have bared innumerate insecurities and uncertainties to all of you- though I do not think you've ever deemed them obvious nor anything but mere words on paper that I've written as the conscious of characters. Some things are conscious and some things are my own personal experience- made of subconscious or conscious.  
> \--  
> some of this was inspired by headcanons on tumblr I made with @stilinski-loves-lydia  
> \--  
> I wrote this chapter while watching chowder and wallowing basically

“I’m awfully sorry to bother you on this fine morning good sir, I doubt that you had been awake very long- Though I must request your presence on the matter of the woman we tossed in the sea a’ter her death, tis’ a wicked statement to give, that one died on ye’r boat, but I have full faith that a Stilinski could attest to me and me good intentions, I done know ye’r name for a while now, you seem respectible a man. Ye could defend me- could ye not?”

“Aye I’d think I can, you ought’a give me some time though. How long will you be waiting for?”

“My boat ain't allowed to leave until her death is cleared.”

“Then so it may be. I may have to reach out to investigative services, though for now- have you papers or anything for me to look over?”

The stout, soft faced Captain with a yeomen accent handed over the legal papers and a book regarding the law of the sea. Stiles smiles slightly, thankfully he had been dressed- him and Lydia having been ready to go out to a breakfast in the village below. Though the man had knocked on his door before they could set to leave.

“Thank you. What’s your address? I should write you to set up a meeting, perhaps, once I’ve looked the papers over and the book, then we can discuss the matter and I can perhaps set a date with the embassy and see the due trial in court- if they deem it necessary?”

“Bless ye’r heart, good man, it’s awfully kind of you to do such a thing for anoth’a man.”

Stiles nods and the man bows slightly before turning and walking away, he was a bit tall but not taller than Stiles, and he had a sort of strange skip to his step, a sort of hop in a way, and he seemed to walk with foot heavy on the dirt beneath him. Stiles turns once he’s gone and shuts the blue door, then goes to put the papers in the spare room with a desk, Lydia lounging on the couch in the living room as she waits for him.

“Where are you going? What about breakfast?” She calls, standing up to follow him into the room, Stiles putting the papers and the book down at the desk, arranging some things around, Lydia standing beside him.

“We’ll go in a second, I just wanted to-”

“We’re leaving _now_ because it’s our honeymoon and you’re supposed to be sexing me, drinking with me, and adoring me. Not working.”

Stiles scoffs and she gives him a look, tugging him away from the desk and Stiles begrudgingly follows. “Breakfast isn’t going anywhere Lydia.”

“Yeah but you are.”

“Lydia-”

“Work can wait. We can look it over later,” she tells him and Stiles nods, following his wife out of the house small house, down the wooden hallway and to the blue door, where they stumble down the arch of the dirt road. The two laughing as they did, trying to gain footing on the down path of the hill, Lydia holding his hand tightly as she lead him down, as if knowing exactly where she were going. Though she didn’t, she was just walking and holding his large warm hands. In the three days they’ve been here, they’ve yet to leave the grounds of the house. The yard and the house was suitable, but since they didn’t know anybody- it couldn’t hurt to get breakfast, right? They figured not, and Stiles followed his wife with child-like glee, it was often forgotten how young they really were, just barely edging out of young adulthood and into adulthood. Even if time were dwindling, time could wait for a while, the years would come and go but she could only see Stiles smile so often. It came and it went, but when it was there, it lit up the entire world like fireworks in a dark night sky. She turned to see him beaming at her as they made their way down the path, her moment of turning causing her to slip and grab onto him, Stiles bending slightly in attempts to keep her up. Lydia grinned and kissed him as she stood, Stiles eyes shutting blissfully, melting into her, tilting his head to kiss deeper.

Lydia parts and smiles brightly. “Come on, we don’t want to be late, do we?”

“You say it as if we made reservations or somethin, it’s just breakfast.”

“Yeah and the morn doesn’t last all day, baby.”

Stiles nods, kissing her fingers, the two continuing to make their way down onto a straight path, with trees lining the sides, the sun fresh and dazzling as it showed through. The two walk along the path and Lydia is reminded of the first time Stiles took her to the village with him, after Church one day, in the light of the Autumn air as they held hands and laughed, his arm wrapping around her- it was also the first time she met Stoker. She remembers he had sung for them and played piano before he took her down to the Hotel to see Jackson to invite them to their engagement party. It seemed so _long ago_ but it’s only been mere months.

“How quick time works,” she remarks.

“I’m not sure I understand what you mean.”

“It was just in October we were walking into Town to see Stoker before going to the Hotel.”

Stiles thinks for a second before laughing slightly. “And just a day or so before that, that I had kissed you drunk.”

“You told me kissing girls drunk felt like being in love.”

“Kissing you at all makes me feel drunk _and_ in love. It’s a bit frightening to be this in depth with somebody.”

“Why?”

“You have my everything. Betrayal is always a choice Lydia.”

“But it would never be mine.”

“It’s still frightening. Even Allison isn’t always open to surveying feelings of others, she gets rather offput and shrugs it off. She’s not good with it.”

“I know that feeling… Sometimes I felt like I couldn’t tell her things, but then reuiniting with Mary and meeting Olive and Bethany, it was just something else. They’re so open and willing to hear your every word…”

“And that’s a luxury you should never take for granted Lydia.”

“You have me,” Lydia assures, her dainty hands wrapping around his arm, leaning into him as they walk. “And Theo, and Brett, and Scott, and Isaac.”

“But Isaac comes and goes, Scott only speaks to me due to Allison and god if I was able to, I would see Theo every day but he lives so far. I feel like all my friends are come-and-go sort of friends, stay-the-night-to-drink friends, not-really-there friends. Theo might have been my only real friend…”

“As if he’s not anymore…”

“I don’t really know sometimes. I hope he is.”

Stiles would never know that Theo will always love him regardless, no matter how sick and twisted of a love, it was there and it lingered in his heart, and deep down Stiles loved him back- in a brotherly sense, in a sense that, that man was his best friend and how could he not love him? Want to protect and fight for him? Stiles thinks that no matter how the tides change, Theo is one of the few real friends he’s ever had- can he consider Isaac a real friend? He’s never so certain. Nobody ever left him certain about everything, the betrayal of his own father was ever prominent in his life- things never went well without falling apart. Stiles only prayed that God helps him, that God leaves mercy on him. It was all he could do, ask for mercy, ask for forgiveness.

Though Stiles thinks that he must have been answered because he never deserved a person like Lydia. Somebody so passionate, beautiful and ever fighting. She was kind hearted and innocent, she was something like no other and he loved her, he loved her so much it made his heart want to burst. He loved her like nobody else could love. He loved all that she was, all that she could, loved every side of her- even the ones he’s yet to see. Stiles thinks that he doesn’t deserve Lydia Martin Stilinski, and that no matter the choice he had in this situation, he didn’t deserve her. He didn’t deserve to see her smile, he didn’t deserve to hold her hand, he didn’t deserve to see her bare herself to him in a bed, and moan his name like he were the only thing she’d knew- he doesn’t _deserve_ to be loved by somebody so pure and so wonderful. He is undeserving of such a wonderful woman because he is not a wonderful man and wonderful women deserve wonderful men. Not men like him: men that were broken, men that need attention, men that couldn’t open their hearts sometimes. She deserved so much better than this. He knew that she did, no matter how she begs to differ, he knew that she deserved better. The best of men there was to offer and he wasn’t it.

“Stiles are you listening?” Lydia finally asks, looking up at him and he looks down at her, glazed eyes coming back to life as he paid her attention.

“Sorry, I just got a bit lost in my head.” _Undeserving. Can’t even listen when she speaks._ “Do you think you could repeat it for me, love?”

“I was _saying,_ that when we’re in Paris that we ought’a attend a few masquerades, I’ve always wanted to go to one and we seldom have them in the United States, but in _Paris_ they’re really quite popular. We could get new clothes and everything, I would get a real nice, 18th century kind of a dress, poofy and outgoing and all-”

“That’s not unusual to your normal style.”

“Maybe not, but it’s a little bit different. More… Elegant.”

Stiles kind of laughs and she looks up at him smiling softly. “What’s the matter, Stiles?”

“Nothing, just… enjoying your company.”

“Well I’m yours to enjoy.”

“My pleasure.”

She giggles delighted and kisses his knuckles, and he watches her with admiration. The love in his eyes makes her heart swell and she leans up to kiss him slowly, Stiles letting her before tugging her hand to pull her along. It isn’t long before they’re in the center of the beautiful, brick town. A fresh fountain of water in the center, storefronts open and people conversing. They pick a dainty cafe to eat at, sitting down and awaiting saucer like mugs of coffee and warm pastries, the two lounging in chairs across each other. Lydia hums, her fingers wringing a cloth.

“I wish I had something to draw with, I want to draw you,” Lydia admits.

Stiles raises a brow before grinning. “I could buy you something to draw with.”

“You’re the best, really, I don’t know what I did to deserve you.”

“Nothing special, just like me.”

“You’re the most special person in the world.”

“I am _not._ Don’t make me out to be something I’m not.”

“You’re better than anybody that has ever been with me, nobody treats me as well as you do Stiles. After everything, and you still love me with a full heart. And nobody ever has.”

Lydia smiles a watery smile, meaning what she says with her whole heart. He treated her like nobody else, he was so gentle with her when so cold to the rest of the world, he accepted her and he loved her. Nobody ever really loved her before. Nobody ever really reached out to her, to take care of her before. She was fragile and so wounded, yet her heart didn’t know how to be anything but kind, but to accept everything that was placed before her. She just couldn’t find it in herself to be cold, or let things damage her. It wasn’t like her.

“I’m glad to hear that,” Stiles says after a moment.

“I do love you so.”

“And I love you all the same.”

“Regardless of anything.”

“It’s a first.”

“And the last. I’m your one and only Mr. Stilinski.”

“The only woman I’ll ever have eyes for, Mrs. Stilinski,” he assures and she grins, squeezing his hand as the waiter came over with their breakfast. Stiles and Lydia parted hands as they both took their cups and gingerly raised it to their lips. The waiter leaves, knowing the two are satisfied, Stiles and Lydia both placing their cups down in sync, unknowingly.

 

Breakfast goes by smoothly, the two returning home and Lydia has a new set of paints and pastels with paper. They get there and the two pour themselves large glasses of mead and honey, sitting on the floor of the balcony in the back. They have a whole pitcher of it. Lydia moving to undo his clothing for a more undone look before starting to sketch him in red and pink. She sketched him with his moles, his lean muscles, his scattered hairs. Stiles was so beautiful, it made her chest ache, she just wanted to stare at him for hours. Even if he seemed bored, just watching the clouds as she sketched.

Lydia pours herself another cup of mead and honey, downing a rather large gulp, Stiles laughing a bit and kissing the stream that dribbles down from her lips, licking away the mixture. He pours himself another glass to drink, sipping leisurely as she lets her strip away at him and draw him- different angles and different positions. Her hands becoming practiced with the colors, more defined and creating more vivid, practiced images.

Three glasses in, the two started getting hazy though. Stiles laughing as she tried to angle him, her hands lightly tickling his mole-covered skin. “Stop, you’re tickling me,” he mumbles and she giggles.

“Come on just turn your head this way-” she says, trying to turn him, Stiles letting her after a minute of the two giggling.

“Is this totally necessary?”

“Absolutely necessary. Pose like a greek god will you?”

“I’m not certain I know what that means.”

She shrugs and kisses his neck. “I’ve seen some art.”

“You seem the type.”

She raises her glass to her lips, sipping before starting to sketch him in a purple.

Two cups later, they’re both slurring phrases and laughing ridiculously, clinging onto each other. Lydia is leaning over him on the balcony floor, her arm pressed to the wood, her hand in his hair as her body presses to his. He’s talking about something but she’s not sure what, she’s just focused on the creamy white of his cheeks. Lydia leans over and starts to kiss them, Stiles is holding her waist and she just kisses them generously.

“What’sha doin Lyyyydia?”

“Kissin you.”

For whatever reason, they both found it hilarious, foreheads pressing together as they laugh, their bellies cramping from the contagious laughter. They couldn’t seem to stop as they bent over into each other. Lydia’s laughter is a contagious, bubbly laughter that fills his ears and as she turns into his arms, slipping off his belly she snorts an unlady like snort- the two pausing for a moment before bursting into giggles again, Lydia clinging to his side, hand caressing his belly, trailing up from the one piece underwear to his chest, nails scratching lightly.

Stiles lets her, contentedly lying back with his wife in his arms. She leans over him and takes the yellow pastel stick before starting to smudge on small, freckle like stars on his face. Stiles seems confused but Lydia has that look of focus in her eyes with a slight pout. She may be no real life artist but she did know how to smudge stars on a face. And they came out nicely, several drawn on his cheek bones and the bridge of his nose, a few along the dimples of his smile. She then takes the purple and outlines his lower lip before taking the dark bluey kind of pastel and speckling his cheeks to make a sky like appearance around the stars. On the center of his forehead, between his brows, she takes an off-whiteish pastel and etches the shape of a crescent moon there and with the grey she makes craters.

“You’s’as bee-oooooo-tea-ful as the knighted sky.”

Stiles laughs joyful. “Wha’sh’id you do?”

“Made you the sky.”

“The sky?”

“With stars for fretkles and a moon for a braid.” She meant brain but poor girl didn’t know what she was saying, though it made Stiles smile and she kisses him straight on the lips- somewhere in the back of her head it reminds her the night of the ball at Allison’s, the first time he kissed her. For a moment she feels like she’s still 18 and spinning in his arms again, clinging to him with a very furious, very jealous Jackson behind them. Stiles and her ended up kissing against a tree. _Kissing girls drunk makes it feel like you could be in love._

“Do ya love me?”

“Love you lots.”

“How mush?”

He thinks. “A lot. Like _innumerouz._ ”

“That’s a lot,” she whispers bewildered and he nods, Lydia looking at him with wide, hazy eyes. “That’s a lot.”

He nods and she nods back, her head resting on his chest. They both just rest in a drunk stupor silence, holding each other. She tries to think of how much innumerous is and ends up confusing herself. Though every time she closes her eyes, innumerous looks like the stars in the sky while spinning drunk in Stiles arms with their friends in the back drop, innumerous looks like sitting around a bonfire by the pool while they all sing southern hymns that she’d never heard and Jackson glaring but her head was on Stiles shoulder and she was safe. Innumerous was the ambers that flew from the fire. Innumerous were the glances she spared him when she couldn’t have him. Innumerous was the feeling she felt watching him dance with Elizabeth Darcy across the room but then call her over to leave outside with them. Innumerous was a feeling over a number. She couldn’t count innumerous because it had no number, it was the way white had no color. Innumerous were the eyes on her when she picked Stiles during the court case. Innumerous was him and innumerous was she. Innumerous was everything that they have forged in the past 7 months of infatuation turned love. Innumerous was their pain, innumerous was their love, innumerous was the intimacy between them. Everything was innumerous and spinning like the sky of the night of the ball in Allison’s back yard. They’d been innumerous. They'll always be innumerous. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so I wasn't really feeling it and I wanted this chapter to be longer but the last few days of Ramadan is proving to be busy and very exhausting. So I'm sorry this is short but I'm hoping next chapter will be much longer! I promise I'll update ASAP- within the next few days, I promise. ALSO thank you for loving this story, I do my best to give you what you deserve. Even if this chapter is a little off, you know? Last night, I sat up until 4 AM writing and praying and preparing for the day, by the end I was just disoriented and seeing things. Now I'm just mentally tired- IDK But i do love y'all and it literally has reduced me to tears how appreciative y'all can be!


	51. Chapter 46

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Only If For A Night.mp3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know you don't actually care but here is what I've been up to since I haven't updated in like a week  
> So monday I went shopping and got myself clothes for the Eid (my holiday) then went to my mom's cousins house for breaking fast (and okay that dinner was lowkey pretty not great but whatever, it wasn't the worst)  
> Tuesday My uncle came in from Cali + last day of fasting, we ate at grandma's  
> Wednesday was EID!!! It was okay, I ended up home taking care of my sister than we had this great night planned but my dad wouldn't let us leave my grandma's so we canceled all our plans and then food places weren't open and we ended up eating really crappy, really expensive diner food u.u  
> Thursday was an a-okay day. I started this chapter then did some chores and then my aunt gave birth so we went to see the baby!!!  
> Friday was today and I went to the mall with my mom, we got panera for breakfast then I did some shopping with my Holiday money. then we all went to see finding dory!

Theo couldn’t quite recall how it happened- the secret affair in the back of the hallway- hidden behind a draped balcony, getting off gleefully by none other than Corey Bryant- met to his acquaintance were sloppy kisses and hand held touches- momentary euphoria that he should have so distanced himself from but could not bare to let up the opportunity. It’s as if the past few weeks of training haven’t changed him at all- only distanced him and made him  _ cold.  _ Which was something Theo never associated himself with, he had never been cold- he had always tried to radiate light, to be kind and helpful and perhaps even friendly, and though a bit stand-offish, perhaps slightly uncaring, he was never cold, not frosted at the heart. Southern hospitality was a thing he knew how to present, though it seemed he’s since changed.

Something warm blossomed again that night, gentle, sloppy kisses, quick flicks of wrists, and soft moans- something about a boy who was more youthful than him coming undone his arms was enough to put a bit of feeling back in his chest. The cuts on his body from his training felt healed, the hurt he felt was somehow no longer hurting. It was as if the injustice done on himself was undone, though the guilt that rode through him after, sated and panting as Corey kissed him once more was somehow worse than the justified release he found. 

“I’m trying to change,” Theo tells him.

“What do you mean?”

“This is wrong. I… it’s not normal, to be like us-”

“But perhaps it is normal, haven’t you always felt like this was right? That this was better than what we’re made to have?”

“It feels  _ right  _ but God forbade it on the terms that we’re not men are not meant to be with men and women are not meant to be with women. That’s how it’s always been, that’s how it always will be. We’re just radical thinkers, it’s the devil, is what it is; our pursuits perhaps addictive to sensate the body from hands experienced with similar body, though it’s not in the right to be what we are.”

“You seemed perfectly comfortable last time this happened, I don’t know what changed… who told you this? Did somebody find out?”

“Nobody knows anything, nobody has to. Better I rid of my affiliations before I am found out- better I keep my hands to myself.”

“Then what’s this?” 

“A weakness in my attempts.”

“So you mean to tell me that this a born addiction of mind? Theo it’s crazy talk, don’t you feel it? That this is how you were made to be?”

Confliction passes over his features and Theo worries his lip before his features turn to nothing, showing no emotion as he tucks everything back into place, fixing his underwear and the rest of his clothes- Corey following suit. 

“Theo… I’m not telling you to turn yourself in, but I don’t want you to be unhappy… I don’t want you to feel like you’re less of a man because of it. You’re not, you aren’t, you’re strong and loyal and witty and charming- I can tell-”

“Corey, thank you for the input, but I think you and I both know that we’re less. Real men don’t feel this way.”

“That’s not true! There has to be a reason-” Corey whispers, anger biting inside of him. How could Theo do this then say these things? Though his understanding breeches, so many times has it been said in church, so many times have men been arrested for being together- for being suspected of being together romantically. Some were found out then beaten to death, he knew the fear of it. He understood Theo but that didn’t mean Theo had to beat himself to death.

“There is a reason and it’s the devils work, Corey,” Theo decides and Corey looks broken. 

“What are you doing to yourself? How are you changing?”

“Peter Hale is mentoring me- I’m training like one might at West Point, to be a soldier. I’m training to be strong-”

“To be a man?” Corey inserts. “Because if that’s what it is… I don’t think it’s right.”

“Corey you should know-”

“I know that this feeling is here for a reason, but I don’t know what would happen to me if people knew- I don’t know what would happen if I ever told. And that’s something I’m not willing to risk but I’m not torturing myself-”

“Neither am I. I’m bettering myself.” 

Corey nods and Theo starts to move towards the door when Corey grabs him. “Be careful would you? Don’t… Don’t do anything that could kill you.”

“Well nobody wants to be dead, Bryant. I plan to repent before I let that happen.”

 

Odette is sitting across the table from him and it’s like they can barely look at each other before somebody is begging their attention. One should want to be alone with the boy that they think they love, but grandmothers and mothers make it impossible- especially during parties where they sit you all the way across the way from each other- Odette thinks that her mama didn’t do this to Stiles. Then again… Stiles had been engaged to that girl. Her brother wasn’t a child, he was twenty now- she knew that to be true. His birthday just over a month ago. 

Odette sips idly at her drink, waiting for the dinner to be served as she sips. Her eyes trail to Liam who is sort of dazed off, staring at the sheets- she thinks he has such a beautiful, youthful look to him. She turned eighteen in August- and although Stiles won’t be there to see her come out, she thought it’ll be special all the same. She hopes Liam is going to be there- though she’s also hoping for a young man she acquainted named Corey would be there- he was friends with Theo she believed and he was charming. There were other men amongst others she hoped to see, but Liam the most. He charmed her, and as her eyes veered from him, she caught glimpse of his eyes trailing to her. It made her smile slightly, looking over as a waiter approached behind her Nana.

Glancing back to Liam he smiles at her and she smiles back, the two gazing longingly at each other. Odette can’t wait to step on the dance floor- and even if she’s only allowed one dance with him, it’s the only dance that she’s looking forward to. She hopes he thinks the same. The look in his eyes tells him he thinks the same of her. 

  
  


Allison regretted the agreement the entire time- she didn’t even know why she agreed. Let alone be put in this ridiculous looking dress to go- then again, this was important to Scott. Though she could have delayed it right? God, nothing could delay the knowledge of suffering like this- sitting at a small table with her in laws and the house they were squatting in until they returned to Texas.

There was nothing she dreaded more, their insistent stares boring into her, analyzing her every move. She couldn’t even lift her fork without their eyes focused on her movement. What did she do wrong? Was there something in the food? She wanted to puke. She wanted to run. To flee. To get out as quick as possible. Allison swallows thickly, glancing towards Scott who was poking at the food on his plate. He felt it too- but he wouldn’t even look at her, she knew her eyes must be pleading and she quits it. Allison throws on her most charming smile and he laughs a bit bubbly.

“Ya know, the food is spec _ tacular _ . What is it? I’ve never had beans prepared like this.”

“Mexican Dish,” his mother informs her abruptly and she nods.

“Well ya must give the recipe to our cook Tinashe. Y’all wouldn’t believe, that woman could prepare anythin if ya let her hands on a recipe.” 

They all nod and Scott smiles awkwardly, though he was thankful Allison was trying- even if her attempts were failing. “What do you like to do in your freetime?” Rafael asks suddenly, digging a fork into the Carnitas enchilada and scooping the meat and beans. 

Allison finishes chewing before shrugging. “Well I do some charity in the city sometimes, I like to play piano or read-”

“You like to read?” he asks. “What do you read?”

“Well… books?”

“What sort of books?”

“All sorts of books.”

Rafael scoffs. “Books, girls don’t read books. Girls can’t even read.”

“I read quite alright, thank you.”

“Right, of course you do. What else do you do?”

“I… I sew sometimes. I like to make little designs for pillows.”

She nods and so does Scott. “I’ve seen them, they’re quite nice.”

“You’ve seen her bedroom pillows?”

“Wh- Papa she never said they were in her bedroom.”

“Then where do I suppose a girl like her puts her homemade pillow cases? Out in the public for people to see, rather than professional wear and tear?”

“Yes. My work is hefty.”

“The only work you do is in my son’s bed. That’s the only real reason he’s so adamant in marrying you.”

“Rafael! Watch yourself,” Melissa warns in her thick accent. “Be kind.”

He shuts up then and Allison chews her lip, too sick to finish eating. She thinks that she’s really going to just  _ puke  _ everywhere. There is no way this is going to get better, everything was falling apart. She almost wants to hand the ring back to Scott from the guilt that balls up in her lower belly and the confines of her breasts, restraining her heart from beating too fiercely. Her breaths are shallow and she’s considering crying but she holds herself together with an awkward smile and her eyes on her plate. Scott aches knowing he can’t hold her- his girl in power suddenly weak. It seemed painful to watch as she picks at the food on her plate. 

He knows she doesn’t deserve this but he couldn’t really stop it. There was a girl his father had in mind and Scott had completely defied him for love- ‘ _ all for love’  _ his father had mocked him. Scott didn’t think it would be long before he was disowned by his father. They would kick him out, and perhaps he’d visit his mother from time to time when his father went away on trips. Though he wouldn’t be welcome home, not really. He betrayed his parents, according to them. All for a beautiful girl- and he doesn’t regret it. Allison was more than beauty. She was everything to him. She was his love, his heart, his integrity. She was everything to her. Allison was the warrior that defended him, the girl that protected his heart. He loved. Yes all for love. Defied his parents, all for love without regret. 

 

Theo sat beside Peter and his father, listening on the politics they spoke of. There was no passion behind the words and he sort of wishes Stiles was here, watching with an unamused look, obviously biting the inside of his lips so not to purse them- then he’d look over to Theo and crack a grin.  _ (‘idiot, they’re all idiots’  _ he’d later say and then Theo would laugh amused, listening to Stiles tirades about the laws and whatever it was that really kicked his gears so to speak.) Theo missed him, he’d admit. He was in Virginia just last month to meet some of Peter’s friends and he knew if Stiles was home he would have been there to at least save him from damnation of the awkward and pitiful. 

Though he wasn’t and he still isn’t- Theo does hope he’s having a good time on his end of the world, he deserves to- so Theo is stuck here now, listening to them talk and not know what they’re talking about. Listening to them go on and on about things that are more or less useless. Peter gives him a glance and Theo sits up straighter. He wasn’t willing to get in trouble for something he could easily fix. Though thank god for Martha, who sways on over and stands before the table.

“Y’all don’t mind if I steal Theo for a bit, do you?”

“Not at all,” his father says and Theo nods, standing to leave with her, exhaling once they’ve gone far enough. 

“Y’all looked like you was cookin in the devils heat.”

“Well.. They’re intolerable as ever. Men don’t know right from left sometimes.”

“Aye but you do?”

“My best friend is a Lawyer, I’d be damned to not know every given direction.”

She laughs gleefully and Theo smiles. Martha makes a good friend but he’s just not romantically inclined to love her, it’s not who he is- but perhaps it’s who he will be. It’s what he’s bound to be. He thinks maybe if they married, things would change, especially when they start having sex. Perhaps it’s just the lack of evidence in women’s bodies that has him so wound up on a man’s and it only makes sense, he’s only ever seen a man’s body, he only needs the evidence of a woman to change. That’s all. 

“Perhaps we should dance,” Martha offers, her brown hair swaying into her eyes and he lifts her wrist to his lips and kisses them.

“Perhaps I could have more than a dance,” he charms, Martha blushing at the public (and very  _ scandalous)  _ display of affection.

“What are asking me for?” she whispers, glancing around in hopes nobody was really paying attention to them, though of course, everybody was paying attention to them, the eyes on them felt innumerous and they were making a scene.

“Your heart, perhaps.”

“My heart?”

He nods, glancing up to meet Corey’s eyes, and though her skin doesn’t make the sense of his lips tingle, he’s persistent in his pursuits to tie himself down and away from the devil’s horrid sin. He was that man no more, he needed to  _ stop.  _

“What exactly are you saying?”

“That perhaps we should see more of each other,” he offers, giving her an award winning smile and she melts, nodding her head.

“Yes, I would love to see more of… more of you,” she stutters, seeming a bit overwhelmed and breathless. “But for now, one dance has to do.”

“What a silly rule- one dance with every girl, even when married.  The rich can be foolish.”

“Only protective. We’ve already caught eyes, y’all might pursue somethin more mannerly, no need for more attention then already gave.”

“If you so wish. Now come on before the night slips between our fingers.”

She nods and follows him to the dance floor, where they enter the rings of russian dancing. The groups twirling and moving about in quick, upbeat steps. Hearty with happiness and joy, though Theo feels guilt weigh in his chest and he looks to his mother who seems delighted but he can’t help but feel he’s let her down. 

 

Elizabeth Darcy would never have the heart to admit it but she was utterly in love with Stiles Stilinski. It was a daring fact she had forced herself to come to terms with, though she’s pushed and denied ever since. She was going to be engaged to Isaac, the charming and beautiful Isaac, who was ever kind and though not profitable, he made her happy. Yet her heart harps on Stiles and she won’t ever forget how warm he felt when he danced with her. Nor the pangs of unwanted jealousy when she saw Lydia around him- and it always stuck with her the night that she dined with them and Lydia had claimed she wanted to be like  _ her  _ to win over Stiles (even when she had Stiles already won.)

It leaves Elizabeth to wonder if he’s genuinely happy or if he feels the same, though it never took her to quite the fancy that she should think this, that she would have the chance with him- in bed or in love or in anything. She had Isaac and Stiles had Lydia. That was that. She didn’t want to trade it for the world. But sitting across from Isaac at her dinner table, she feels her lip quiver as she watches him. He genuinely cares so greatly for her and here she was believing she was in love with another man. What was wrong with her to portray such fiendish ways? It wasn’t right.

“I… I must excuse myself for a moment. I don’t think I’m feeling very well,” Elizabeth announces and Isaac looks up concerned as well as her father.

“Is everything alright Elizabeth darling?” Her father asks and she nods.

“Just a belly ache, is all. I’m just… just a little nervous for my meeting at the club tomorrow.”

“Well why so? You have been there in recent time haven’t you?” Isaac queries on the event and she shrugs. 

“It don’t matter, I think I’m just… just anxious for silly reasons.”

“Is there anything I could do love?”

That struck her through the heart and Elizabeth’s lips puckered and pouted as she quickly shook her head, scurrying from the room and both men stood, surprised as she ran off from him. Isaac looking to her father who looked to him.

“It’s nothing you did, I’m sure,” he promises and pats his back before they follow. 

“Perhaps I should go,” Isaac says and her father shakes his head.

“Nonsense, go in there and talk to her.”

He turns and leaves across the hall of the apartment to his own room, leaving Isaac to knock on the door before letting himself in. Elizabeth was hunched over in an arm chair by the window, sobbing in her arms. Her petite frame shaking and her blondish brown hair fell over her face as it undid itself as she cried. Isaac moves over and at first just tries to take her hand but she turns away, then he pulls her into his arms and her sobbing only gets louder. He doesn’t know what could have sparked this- what he could have done. Was it his father? Was she worried he’d turn out like him?

“Elizabeth I’m sorry…” he whispers starting to let go but she yanks his arm back around her and shakes her head.

“You can’t be sorry! You did nothing wrong!”

“Then why are you crying!”

“I’ve thought horrible things and I don’t deserve you!”

“What on earth do you mean?”

“I…” Elizabeth sniffles, holding him. “I believe my heart still lingers on Stiles.”

“What?”

She could almost hear his heart break. “Isaac please, I really am quite infatuated with you and I think you’re such a gentlemen- I don’t even know where this came from but I… It’s just been in my head lately and I don’t deserve to be treated this well by you when I’ve betrayed you for a man I can’t have.”

“I…” he starts but is unable to render speech, simply looking away from her as he thinks. This was more than he bargained for and she knew she’d done his heart wrong. She shouldn’t have said it. 

“Isaac..” she whispers.

“Perhaps… Perhaps I should give you some space,” he whispers conclusively and Elizabeth looks up at him hurt. “I just… I…” he stops to think. “It seems you need to think things through or perhaps find somebody your heart can set on.”

“My heart isn’t set on him, Isaac he’s married-”

“And he’s my best friend-”

“I care for you, I do, but my feelings from before-”

“Are lingering and I don’t resent you but it’s just not right…”

“I would never try anything.”

“How could I be certain?”

“Because I don’t have the heart to undo Lydia’s happiness. She looks at him like he’s the born child of Jesus himself and how can I ruin that love and trust for her?”

“You’re worried about Lydia?”

“Lydia is a beautiful and wonderful woman, of course I’m worried about her. She did nothing to deserve her happiness to be stolen from under her feet.”

Isaac nods and he still avoids Elizabeth’s face, he can feel the pleading look in her blue eyes. “I just… You’re sure that nothing will come of this?”

“No nothing but guilt that would rot my whole being for not giving you all the love god has given me.”

Isaac nods. “I trust you.”

“Thank you…”

He kisses her finger tips and she smiles slightly, trying to keep her pieces together. Isaac holds her, even if doubt starts to fill him. It seems he was always second best, even to the girl that he loved. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey again! So I know Theo's character got... interesting but we did get a glimpse of this with Josh. Theo is scared out of his mind regarding his life and his image- it's that Paranoia we see a lot in Season 5 with his character, that he's paranoid and power hungry and eager to please. This is similar and I think fitting to character because at that time people were... cruel about homosexuality. You literally could end up in jail up to 35 years. So that's something you need to be aware of regarding Theo and his fear and his paranoia, he could get arrested for Sodomy and he'd be ruined forever. I'll definitely venture more into this in the next history buff chapter/character analysis! Which should be in a few days because I am already gearing up for the new chapter. I also have a few one shots in production for anybody reading my other work!


	52. Chapter 47

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hypnotic.mp3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some sexy stuff happens. Also I have done some slang researching and there were many poetic sounding ways to say orgasm, penis, and testicals- also some other weird sex slang that's featured in this. Victorians were weird and strangely poetic bc sex was v secretive so it was like "yeah her blind cupid (butt) was so hot" or like "they're giving green gowns at the moment"   
> added onto the list of things to talk about for the history feature

Stiles had been handed the suitcase of the woman on the boat’s things just that morning and since then, he’d been searching through them for any sign of something he didn’t know previously. Her name was Eileen, she was working in some sort of factory situation. She had been keeping her a child a secret… a secret from who? Stiles noticed that several times a man named Mark Ezia was mentioned several times, and several times it was said that he must not know until she reaches him for assurance of care. Stiles begins to think that perhaps it was a husband or perhaps it was a lover and that whoever Mark Ezia was, he must find out where he was and if she had any address given of his name. It read that the girl was ‘ _ a matter of secrecy and not to be revealed. That is until Mark and I reunite and look for a better life, South of France in the Ocean Side of the country. Nothin like these here parts of open field and whip to man’s back, any man with eyes that the south of the United States is no place for children, not when cruelty is condoned by God _ .’ 

Stiles thinks on and he wonders if the man lived twelve hours back by Brest, but then continues to think that Brest is west of France and not South at all, that if they are on the Southern beaches, the man is perhaps not as far off as Stiles would have thought. Flipping the page he hopes to find an address, a description of a home or even just a town to be sprawled on the page but there is nothing in the woman's journal to show for it. 

Though he soon learns that she is not an assembly line worker, rather she’s working in the house of an elite in Kentucky as a Kitchen Maid and that they had so many large, expeditus parties, it was  _ like  _ working factory lines for caked goods. Stiles rereads this from the initial pages of her diary and he learns that he had simply misread her words. This makes more sense. As he continues he finds out that her living situation was a small apartment within the village and that she was simply waiting for Mister Ezia to call out for her with a ticket in the mail. He still finds no address and she provides no description beside  _ A lofty house in the south of france in the Ocean Country.  _ Stiles thinks that there are several areas south of France by the ocean, the question was where exactly was this? 

She then proceeds and says  _ Mark Ezia Matthews is the indescribable love of my life, but I want the child to be a surprise.  _ Stiles initial thoughts is that Ezia is not the man’s last name, rather part of his first. And second it’s that the child is either his or not his at all- he is now assuming the child is (new acclaimed) Mr. Matthew’s child and that she was perhaps dreadful of what he had to say of her carrying.  _ I hope it tampers not with our plans when I arrive but rather enforces them.  _

Really it’s a pity she died, and it sinks in that every person, whether they are known or not has a purpose and a place to go. Nobody gets on a boat with a child looking for nothing. They all have thoughts and ideas and crazy notions, one thing that otherwise may be forgotten- all people were somebody, regardless if they were known or not. They had friends and family and people they loved. She was that girls mother and Mark Ezia’s lover and the other women’s friend. It was something that Stiles never truly understood or could grasp hold of, every person was a person, regardless of who they were. He may not have known her but that didn’t make her nothing. That didn’t make her empty when she was full of life. Or life no more. 

He sighs and reaches over for the glass Brandy Bottle and pulls out the cork then pours himself a cup full. Stiles takes a slow sip and he can almost hear the man at the church lecturing on and on the sin of toxic spirits within alcohol, the lowered inhibition, the idiocy acclaimed to it- Stiles thinks for not the first time in his life, he doesn’t care. He takes an undeserving gulp and slumps back into his chair, continuing to read and assess the papers. At what point did he become so numb to the world? Stiles thinks that it was after Malia tarnished him (and perhaps he tarnished her too) that he really became cold, it was his own self that caused his own destruction. The man who set himself on fire and let himself burn into ashes from his own wrongdoing. Nobody ever ruined him- he ruined himself. Though as a reader, it might be applied otherwise that it was more than just the sexual interactions that happened between two people that ruined Stiles, but as a writer, there’s more than the eyes meets. To Stiles, he set himself on fire when the world caught up to him- life was not fun and games, it was more than letting loose on a day, it was pomp and circumstance and preservation of self. That’s all that it was and all that it could be. Who was to oppose to that? Who was to wrong him? It never seemed anybody could, all dirty secrets die with those who hold them. 

 

Lydia turned the pages of the book, only half listening as Olive spoke when the woman peaks over and bursts into laughter. “That’s what you’re so interested in?”

“I just need to know something!”

“So why don’t you _ ask _ ? Hm?” 

“Well… I don’t know! That’s weird… don’t you think?”

“There’s nothing weird about it. We all do it, you more than me probably- such a fit husband must have such a  _ stamina.  _ Tell me: is he an up all night kind of guy? Do you til you can’t walk kind of guy?”

“Olive!”

Olive bursts out laughing, head tilting back as Lydia slumps over with Olive’s book, cheeks blushing red. Though she doesn’t stop looking for what she desires to know. She was not about to ask Olive on how to apply her mouth to her husband's penis, it just simply wasn’t  _ happening.  _ She’d never hear the end from her and Bethany. 

“Oh come on, I tell you.”

“Because you’re an open book.”

“Aw my shy little flower can’t tell me what she does in bed?”

Lydia sighs, pouting as Olive brushes her cheek with the back of her hand before giggling. “We have been up all night, but not straight through sex. A lot of it was mostly kissing… is it natural to be able to go all night?”

“Oh he’s a young man, normally their stamina doesn’t slow until thirty- at least that’s what the women say. Young men like our husbands can be up and running in matters of moments. Never been rough on you though?”

“Not… well not  _ that  _ rough. Though he is… acquired,” Lydia says.

“What about that whole day you spent in bed? Mary said she could hear  _ you  _ beggin from the doorway. Aye?”

“Alright but I’ve never been unable to walk. And all day doesn’t compare to all night. It’s different at night.”

“Sure, more romantic. Besides, it brings out the prowess,” she says popping a piece of the cake she served in her mouth. Her and Bethany were staying in the same two-families house, though they were out in the backyard by a small pond and Bethany was inside, belly-aching with pregnancy, the doctor assessing her, Alberto beside her. “Have you heard anything about the woman? Mary said Stiles was lookin int’a her case. Is’at true?”

“True as daylight. Poor darling has been doing clockwork since the Captain first came. Then right before I left, well they done came around and gave him a whole case a papers and files and accounts they found in her suitcases. Tires him out, ya know? And you could tell he really just wanted to relax, it’s no fair he’s gotta work while we’re on honeymoon. You know?”

“Yeah, yeah I do. Ya know, you keep switching between your northy and southy accents. He’s really rubbin on ya, huh?”

“Well sure, I guess so. Don’t really notice it, I guess.”

“Ahh don’t’ch’ya now? Anyway’s what are ya lookin for in there?” Olive asks again, watching Lydia flips through and she puffs her cheeks.

“It’s embarassing.”

“It is not, come on, be a woman.”

“I’m not but a girl.”

“Still taking clitoral intervention?”

“He likes fondling me,” she defends.

Olive shakes her head, adjusting her hat on her head as she pops another piece of cake into her mouth. “So what are you looking for then?”

“I…” Lydia huffs. “How do I… how do I put this? Uhm… I want to know… how do you tip the shaft?”

Olive seems amused as her friend turns beat red, pouring more coffee into her mug and making it the way Lydia likes it. “Oh it isn’t hard. Frankly, that should have been the first thing you figured out- it’s much easier than sex.”

“How is it any easier than sex?”

“Just kiss where he’s sensitive, do some licking,  _ no  _ biting, unless it’s around the ballocks, keep the root in the mouth, do some sucking, he’ll be off just fine.”

“You couldn’t find more lewd words?”

“What do you prefer? Whorepipe, tallywag, plugtail?”

“That’s disgusting.”

“The tipping or the terminology?”

“The terminology. I’ll get back to you on the tipping.”

“Oh it’s not as bad as going down on us I imagine. We’re spewing liquids all over, at least they only do it once, and granted not much. Besides, if he bathes often, shoul’nt be too bad. Right?”

“Well… I don’t know, I’ve never done it.” Lydia shrugs. “I got Mary’s letter this mornin but had no time to read it. Is she doing well?”

“Say’s she’s never felt so happy. Bless, the child has lifted their hearts. I couldn’t imagine the look of Evans with a smile on his face, can you?”

“No I can’t. He’s such a gloomy and serious man,” she teases, pouting and they giggle. “How’s Bethy doing?”

“Dear is an awful pain, they think she should be giving way by tomorrow, contractions.”

Lydia nods sorrowfully. “You think something’s wrong?”

“Doctor’s in there now, checkin to see.” 

Lydia nods, sipping at her coffee. “I’m hoping maybe I can get Stiles into bed and he’ll give me a sweet death and perhaps a child.” 

“Oh children take a while. We’ve been trying to go at it lately, but it’s hard with Xavier around. I want another baby though. There are some tricks floating about that I’ll have to get my hands on- regarding eating or whatnot.”

“Positions too. Don’t they say to keep the legs up?”

“Oh sure. Keep the legs up, hold position, hope to conceive.”

“Whatever, as long as you get it in before menstruation for the month, Stiles normally just let’s Miss Blake take care of me-”

“And what else do you expect him to do? They don’t know a damned near thing about it. It’s a private and sensitive thing, it’s not his place to step in.”

“Well… I don’t know. I just… he does come in to hold me sometimes and check up on me, when it’s happened.”

“They get used to it. At least you’ve got a maid, I’ve got Bethany and normally we get it around the same time as each other.”

“Well… what are women to do? We suffer silent wars.”

 

Given time and place wasn’t well acquainted with Brett, he does think that right now seemed like a pretty good time and a pretty good place to bump into a beautiful and very single stranger- be it man or woman. Normally you could tell by the scent of a man his interests, though Brett thinks that all men in Europe smell quite the same- or men in France. Though a woman would suffice and perhaps a month of dalliance wouldn’t be so awful, just him and a girl- fall in love, wish goodbye dramatically then one day he ought’a return for her to marry. 

Though it’s a hard thing to do considering he doesn’t speak French very well. Stiles has been teaching him and he’s picked up basic conversation, requests and greetings- but nothing too intense or proper or complex. He just knows the hello’s and goodbye’s not the in’s and out’s and all about’s of the language. He’s walking through a village he doesn’t know with word’s he can just barely grasp and just barely pronounce. He is seeing things he’s never seen before and he thinks that the world possesses much more beauty than ever truly intended. Something about France was romantically nice and he thinks that it’s something he’d like to experience more often. 

A quirky, dainty place that is unlike no other. One might think that perhaps it’s what makes a man find peace in life and then further drive him to be something unintentionally crazy- as such an artist or a poet or a novelist. They truly were all mad, bonkers, off the walls. There was no denying that nor denial that they were all genius in ways normally people weren’t. Novelists and artists and poets had a charm and a way with a pen that most did not possess or could compete with- and when that is true, those who have it are genius. 

Brett thinks that perhaps he’ll move here, find a good french girl and become a writer. A crazy writer. That’s what life should be like for men with no aim, tied to houses and no other freedom. He thinks that Stiles would follow him and they would all go mad together. What a life, what a life indeed.

 

It was later that afternoon that Lydia sulks into the room, her attire the presentable day dress she wore to see Olive. Her hair was in an updo, and as she crossed the threshold of the house, she pulls out a few pins and let’s it fall, continuing to knit pick the ones that were still there. Leisurely crossing to her room, she walks in and starts to undress. Miss Blake was gone to see a relative that worked in an estate, and Brett had just gone out and about. So she strips herself down and grabs a sexy, short, and revealing robe, slipping it on as she then slips out of her stockings and underwear, tossing them aside with her shoes. She then pads over and applies some sparkling skin cream to her skin and some perfume around her neck. She adjusts her hair to give it a more tousled look and moves some strands over to the left side to give some leverage. She poofs it a bit before adjusting her breasts in the robe and making sure creamy legs are smooth and creamed up, glittering in the setting sunlight. Stiles couldn’t resist her now, even if he tried. 

She smiles devilishly to herself in the mirror before turning on her heels and padding down the few feet it was to get down the rest of the hall and to the tiny office, creaking the door open and he glances up at her passively before glancing back up, blinking a bit. He seems bleary and tired and she giggles, nearing on seductive with her every move as she shuts the door and leans against it. “Were you sleeping?”

“Hmm? Uh… I mean… not really no.” he smiles tiredly. “I almost was but I think I’m pretty awake now that you’ve woke me.”

Lydia smiles gently, the smirk suggestive as she saunters over very slowly. She is careful with her every step and he looks her over, chews his lip. She can already hear the protest as she sits at the chair across from him, leaning over the desk, using her arms to push up her breasts. 

“Are you busy?” she drawls in a higher pitched, sultry voice and he sort of half shrugs, inhaling- she can tell he’s trying not to look, and god she’s got him like a cat in a bucket of milk. 

“Lydia… not now, I promise the sooner I’m done, the sooner we can get up to things,” he whispers and the glint in his eyes makes her absolutely moist. They’re thinking the same thing and if Olive could have given her any dirtier advice before leaving, she thinks she’ll get what she wants and for a long while at that.

“Oh but that might be  _ days  _ and it is our honeymoon after all. Surely they can wait a few hours, can’t they?” She asks, pouting playfully.

“Lydia what are you doing?” he whispers. She was being  _ weird.  _

“What do you mean?” 

“You’re… I don’t know… you’ve never done this.”

“I’m putting up a character for you.” Lydia stands and circles over to him and Stiles watches her with slightly slitted eyes, amused and yet very intent on her act. “A very sexy,” she starts, standing behind him, massaging his shoulders slowly, rubbing her hands over the expanse of his back on the jacket. “Very enticing act… as if… a french singer who found love in a rich man’s home.”

“Why a singer?” Stiles asks teasingly, tilting his head up to watch her. “It’s a rather odd choice.”

“Lydia Martin sounds like a singer name.”

“A performance sort of name.”

“Yes of course, but the type that tour the fancy houses and clubs, singing all day and night in skimpy, opened up dresses. But unlike her dresses might suggest, she doesn’t let many men in. It’s sometimes late night sex in the back of a bar or in an untidy hotel room.”

“And so what does that make me?”

“Her favorite lover,” Lydia whispers, kissing the shell of his hear and his laugh sounds like music. “Would you like to hear the story?”

“I would  _ love  _ to hear the story.”

“Well everybody knows of Stiles Stilinski, he’s the most eligibale bachelor in all the  _ world, _ ” she taunts, rubbing his shoulders still. “But she knew there was no chance she’d ever see him, let alone meet him. But a big paying party and afterwards she bumps into him on the way to the room he offered, and there he is, beautiful as ever with shining eyes. They get to talking but there’s a lot of staring… at mouths, at clothes, at each other-”

“He’s thinking god she’s so damn gorgeous.”

“And she’s thinking, ‘what I wouldn’t do to try  _ him. _ ’ Give you real agony of bliss-”

“Mmm what he would do to get her on top, swive with her until she’s reached her flooding bliss.”

“He’s hard as ever.”

“Calls it piss pride.”

“We both know it’s the dress.”

“God it’s the dress…” he barely gets out before their lips meet, her hand resting on his throat and his hand over hers as she melts into him, her free hand pushing his jacket off one shoulder. Taking it off with ease, the two parting so she could round over and he backs up the seat a bit to give her space, and she leans over him (making sure her hips jut out enough that the robe rides up her milky thighs to expose the top of her rounded hind) and she collects his work and places them aside before hopping up and he moves forward and she welcomes him in her arms with a kiss. The two holding onto each other as they, Lydia’s hands snaking into his hair- unbrushed, unruly and curled at the tips. Soft and plush against her fingers, she tugs gently but sighs, almost in agony as he pulls away. She was definitely wet now. 

“I want to do you first,” she says as he moves to kiss her neck and she can hear him burst into bubbling laughter against her skin.

“What on earth do you mean?”

“Olive gave me a few tips,” she says and Stiles raises an eyebrow, perfectly poised as he watches her with an almost goofy grin before kissing her neck again.

“I beat you to it, you’ll just have to wait.”

“No way,” she mumbles, pushing him back and crawling onto his lap on the chair and he falls back with admiration. “You may be a lord but a singer always knows better when it comes to these things.”

“Well I’m absolutely threatened- isn’t it always Ladies first?”

“I’m no lady.”

“And I’m no man.”

“Haha, very funny. But we’re playing a little game, remember?”

“It’s always games with you. We’re always playing games.”

“Games are fun, and even more so when they get a little dirty.”

Stiles smirks his devilish smirk and he kisses the corner of her mouth. “Then do what you must Miss Martin of…”

“France.”

“Miss Martin of France it is. The beautiful singer-”

“Who’s about to tip the steel for her husband-”

“Favorite lover,” he corrects and she nods.

“Favorite lover, force of habit, sorry.”

“She’s unapologetic.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re too apologetic.”

Lydia grins. “Fair enough.” Lydia starts to make good work of his clothes and in due time, between many kisses and hard grinding, they come off. The two were infuriated with passion, clinging, holding, hoping, touching but not quite touching at all. They just wanted more, desperate, cocky and needy. Somehow tense and somehow not at all, poised at attention for the other, just waiting to slump with relief. 

Lydia ends up on her knees and with some help from Stiles, she’s able to figure it out. It was, as Olive said, quite easy. Kiss him on the tip where he was most sensitive, do some licking, do some sucking, and she had him collapsing in minutes, gripping a fistful of her hair, with the most awed expression she’d ever seen on him, mouth open, short gasps rattling his lungs, his hands stuck in her hair, and his warm gush along her chest as she pulls back- figuring the taste in itself wasn’t very pleasant. She felt no obligation to drink him, her mouth on him seemed justifiable enough to her, though she let’s it fall along her neck and the v of her chest from the robe and once he’s come down, she settles on one of his legs, her flushed heat wet and pressed to his thighs, kissing the corner of his mouth, she meets his dark eyes and they exchange smiles.

“You really liked that.”

“Feel free to do that whenever you want.”

“So you  _ really  _ liked it.”

“It’s more than Brett made it out to be.”

“Maybe it’s the act of love.”

“I didn’t know we were in love-”

“Don’t even think about using the title thing.”

“Awwh don’t want to be a lord? Even with your wife?”

“I’m all for games but that’s crossing a line.”

“We’re bad at being in character.”

“We’re good at telling stories though.”

“A singer just gave you the time of your life.”

“Singers are whores usually.”

“Is that how you thank her?”

“S’pose I should return a few favors.”

“She likes it when you use your hands.”

“She’s an immature lover it seems.”

“Your fingers do fine.”

“I see,” he assesses and starts untying her robe, making at the knot she made and Lydia puffs her chest a bit and he laughs, knowing she felt like she had to impress for her ‘role’ as if this was really the first time he’s seeing her. “Don’t puff up, that’s tricky to the eyes.”

“Be tricked, you’ll be more impressed.”

He laughs slightly and kisses her. “I’m already impressed.”

“Hmm perhaps we should see each other again.”

“Perhaps I’ll have to advise the hosts to invite you to more parties.”

They both grin and end up kissing as the knot comes undone, and before he could really get to touching her, she thinks that she craves more, and that she wants more, not just a few simple touches. So she makes work of him again and like Olive said, he was up in a moment and she teases him, slipping his tip in and out of her folds, Stiles moaning helplessly but letting her have it. She was feeling confident- unapologetic. He liked it. Liked having a sort of vulnerability with somebody. 

“Is this alright? Or do you want to take the reigns on the desk?”

“We have all night to do all sorts of things in the room. This is fine for now.”

Lydia nods. “You like to have control.”

“I don’t want control right now, loosen me up a little.”

She giggles. “Was that a joke?”

“No…” he says smiling before catching up and smiling. “Well… not initially but now it is.”

“Is this a trust thing?”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” he warns softly.

“I just want to know,” she whispers lovingly, moving his hair from his eyes and he bites his lip as she slips him off and along her clit, more just to control herself over tease him.

“Perhaps it’s a trust thing.”

Lydia grins and he gives her a stern look and she straightens up a bit, nodding, squaring her shoulders a bit, trying to be serious and they both try not to laugh, leaning in until foreheads touch. “You don’t trust Miss Martin, the mysterious singer of France yet.”

“No I don’t but I do want a helluva time.”

They both grin and melt into a kiss as she finally sinks onto him, it felt good to be in love. It felt good to feel good, it felt good to feel free. Stiles likes having no control, of just enjoying something, and enjoying Lydia in all her quirky company was the best decision he’d ever made. 


	53. Chapter 48

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Salve Regina. mp3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next update will hopefully be monday!

At some point between sessions, Stiles and Lydia ended up moving to their small bedroom and to the plush bed that was there, his instant movement was to kiss down her body, and her legs seemed to automatically spread- her hands had carted through his hair and his touch was a deep red, a sinful, too good for pleasure kind of touch. His mouth had placed kisses before wrapping her legs up on his shoulder, shaking his head a bit before pushing his tongue in deep. She ended up collapsing on the bed afterwards with no sense of her body. She never thought she could be so dizzy in her whole life. Let alone continue until they both swore the sky was starting to get light. 

“Is that the sun?” She whispers, her nails scratching lightly along his shoulders, her legs wrapped along his hips, her body draped over his, his lips trailing up her neck, hands on her hips. 

Stiles peers over before shrugging and leaning back, stretching a bit. The two relax, his arms holding her naked (and very sweaty) body to his naked (and equally sweaty, if not more) sweaty body, Lydia kissing him softly. “We need a bath,” she says.

“And a nap, and maybe somethin ta eat,” he adds, the two smiling softly. 

“Mmm I can still feel my legs.”

“You make it sound like s’a problem.”

“People don’t have sex all night to be  _ tame.  _ Don’t you have an inner beast of sorts?” 

“Surely, but I’m not up ta hurting ya, Lydia.”

Lydia pushes his hair out of his bangs, kissing him again. “They don’t call it agony of bliss for nothing, baby.”

“Mm and good men don’t treat their wives like whores-”

“Unless they want to be treated like whores, then go on ahead, pin me to a bed, and  _ ravage  _ me.” 

“Jesus Lydia,” he mutters, cheeks tinted pink and she giggles kissing his jaw line. 

“You’re stubbly.”

“It tends to happen.”

“Are you afraid you’re too much for me to handle, or do you just not like the idea of-”

“No filthy descriptions and honestly, it is not happenin tonight, I’m worn like a used dish rag.”

“Awwh poor baby,” Lydia teases, poking his cheek with one of her manicured nails, Stiles smiling sweetly and leaning up to meet her in a kiss, the two breathing into each other, his hands trailing into her lower-back length hair, twirling her curls between his fingers as her hand pressed to the center of his neck. Their lips part just slightly, not even taking the moment to breathe before they were kissing again. Tongues met teeth, tongues met each other, hands wandered, lips closed on each other and soon they were on their sides, with only a moment to spare before Stiles parted and he slips his thigh between hers, he wraps his arm around her waist and Lydia pulls him flush to her body, his head nestled into the crook of her shoulder blade. 

“I love you,” he mumbles.

“Love you too,” she whispers back, kissing the shell of his ear, then a mole on the side of his face. Within another moment she can feel his whole body slump to sleep, calm and sleepy and a bit heavy. 

 

_ It was dark and cold, Lydia had no idea where she was. Lydia was wide awake, but everything was pitch black, there was nothing there, just darkness and she screws her eyes shut before opening them and it was still dark. Though she could see the outline of a bunk bed and a trunk, she can see something bleary moving outside a window. A circular window. She blinks her eyes rapidly, and soon everything becomes dim and a little fuzzy, like a bit of light was shining through, she’s able to light a candle, there’s a rocking beneath her feet. As she lights the candle, she fumbles, trying to light the match before finally striking it the right way and lighting it up. She puts the match to the wick and it lights, Lydia holding it up. She looks around, trying to decipher where she was with the new found light.  _

_ The bed, the trunk and a small dresser like box where the candle had been. She sees that there were two people in the bunks, and she moves closer to see them but as she reaches them she notices there is nobody there, when she pulls back the covers they’re gone. There’s nobody there, they were gone… where did they go? Lydia takes a deep breath and tries to calm down. To figure out where she was, this place was familiar but she didn’t fully recognize it. Glancing outside, the bleary movement from before is still there and she realizes it’s water. She’s in the boat. They were in the boat… Or just her.  It was eerily silent, and perhaps it’s the night- she moves to inspect other rooms and they’re all empty.  _

_ Every room is empty and she moves to the next floor, immediately rushing all the way down the hall to the second to last door on the right. Bethany’s room, turning to her like a child turns to a mother and to her dismay the room is empty, and just when she thinks the boat is empty, she hears boots, heavy boots, like Stiles’ expensive riding boots, thudding on the deck above and she can hear the low humming of 5 men, chanting the Salve Regina _ _. It was low, but it was loud, and she can hear the agony in their voices. The most prominent to her was… Miezechs, her  _ **_husbands_ ** _ voice, somehow the most pained of all of them, the most prominent. He was here, he was with her. He was just upstairs and she calls out his name but nothing comes from her throat, silence. She calls him again, tries louder, but nothing comes out. Just silence. She wants to run to him but she feels as if she’s bound to the floor,  Lydia screams again but nothing comes out. Just silence. She sinks to her knee, sobbing frantically and all of a sudden, the heavy stepping of the boots stops and after a moment of nothing but her aching sobs, something plunges into the water, but this time it was not the rotting face of the girl she sees, but the rotting neck of a man who’s face is turned.  _

_ Then suddenly, with a jolt the neck turns in the water and a face is shown, seething with anger and Lydia heaves before screaming with all her might, screwing her eyes shut, hands going to her head- oh how it aches, oh how she aches- screaming with all her might but she hears nothing and she never saw his face.  _

 

Stiles jolted awake the first time to his wife called his name, looking to her she was sleeping. She was dreaming and he thinks not to wake her, but then she’s calling for him louder, her sleeping form sitting up. What was wrong with her? 

“Lydia?” He whispers, touching her arm before pulling her into his arms. “Lydia wake up,” he whispers and he shakes her a bit but she seems unmoving. Suddenly a small scream comes out from her and then she jolts in his arms, her bare breasts pressing into his arm- he doesn’t let her go- screaming fully this time- and he holds her to his chest, the light of day streaming on her anguished features. “Lydia!” He calls but to no avail. 

He’s watching her, she’s shaking and she’s crying, he doesn’t know what to do and Brett and Miss Blake move into the room. “What’s happenin?” miss Blake asks.

“She’s dreamin, but she won’t wake up,” Stiles informs, his pale with fright, his hand taking Lydia’s, Brett and Miss Blake moving closer to see her. 

“Go get Cold Water Brett, with a towel. Wipe her face and she’ll wake up good and fine.”  
Stiles nods when suddenly Lydia pulls away from her, screaming at the top of her lungs, folding in on herself in the bed, screaming and crying but this time he knew she was awake, her hands gripping the material of the duvet and Stiles moves to hold his naked wife against him, Miss Blake placing her robe around her shoulders and Lydia doesn’t hesitate to take comfort from them. 

“Stiles! It was horrible!” 

“What is it? What happened my love?” 

“Th-there was- you were-  _ somebody was _ -” She can’t finish her thought before bursting into frantic tears, wiping furiously at them as if to make them stop and he pulls her close. He doesn’t care if they’re he both still sticky, he doesn’t care if they smell like sweat and sex, he just cares about Lydia- he just cares if Lydia is okay.

“Lydia my love, calm down. Darling  _ calm down _ ,” he pleads insistently, holding her as she cries, her wails heartbreaking- as if she was mourning somebody. “What’s the matter? What haunts you?” he asks, Brett rushing in with cold water from the well and Miss blake starts to dab the water along her temple and her face, reciting prayers in latin as she did. 

It took a few minutes but soon Lydia calmed down. “The woman on the boat- I… I saw her plunge into the water when we were on the boat.”

“In the dream?”

“In real life.”

Stiles watches his wife with intent, waiting for her to continue. “I… I was estranged,” she mumbled. “But then in the dream, I started out in that room and nobody was there, so I went looking for somebody and I went to Bethany’s room and she wasn’t there, and then I heard… I heard you and five other men singing the Salve Regina. You were walking in riding boots… they sounded like your riding boots and I was calling you but I… I wasn’t making any sound,” she whispers confused, sniffling as she grips his arm, the other hand pressed over his heart on his bare chest, the skin soft underneath her fingers. “A body fell in the water but it was a man.”

“Who?” 

“I… I don’t know.” 

Stiles nods. “Come on, how about we get you in a bath?”

She nods and Stiles carries her to the bath which is soon filled with hot water and luxurious soap,  Miss Blake taking over. Stiles is quick to pull on flannel pants and a white t-shirt. He then goes to his office and grabs the new journal he started with stacks of letters. He goes to sit outside and Brett is soon to follow Stiles, who’s at the table, sitting and scanning pages, offering him a mug of coffee.

“There’s also Scones and coffee cake.”

“I’ll wait until Lydia gets out of the bath, thank you though.” 

Brett nods, leaving Stiles to his own devices. He starts flipping through to where he left off and then he finds the page he left off on.  _ Mark says he has just bought us the house that he resides on, in the south of france, in the village of Sainte Maxime near the ocean.  _ Stiles eyes brighten. He knew Sainte Maxime! Now, it must not be far, he knew the ocean not to be very far from here- he looks up when the door opens and he hops up, moving to pull Lydia into a liplock, holding her tight by the waist and she gives a muffled sound against him, grinning when he pulls away, a beaming smile of genuine happiness on her face.

“I’m alright,” she tells him.

“And I am  _ ever  _ glad for that. Do you think that perhaps we throw the rag in early tonight and go off to the ocean side tomorrow? Would you like that, Lydia?”

Lydia blinks, her smile remain but eyes narrow slightly. “On what terms are we speaking of?”

“On the terms I talk to the woman’s lover and Poppy’s father? Then I’m yours the whole day after- I promise. Promise, promise, promise. We can even stay there a few days. I know a friend who has full floor apartment. We could stay there-”

“Okay, okay!” Lydia agrees, laughing at the sudden glee he portrayed, his excited grin melting into an appreciative one. Lydia leans up on her toes and presses a soft kiss to his cheek before going to sit down where he had been sitting, picking up his coffee cup she sips where the wet stain of his own lips remained, starting to flip through and read where he had left off the night before, before she had… interrupted him. 

Stiles watched pleased, his wife assessing the information he had found. “So we know he lives in this town, but where?”

“It’s a good question.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Check the post for his address.”

“And you think they’d just give it to you?”

“Well they can’t deny me of it. I have this worked out, it’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure? Try looking at the letters first, see if there’s something. Are they from him?” 

“I believe so… yes.” 

“Oh…. alright… alright.”

Lydia nods, prying a letter open with her nails and beginning to read it. Sipping away at  _ Stiles  _ coffee. Stiles sits down on the chair beside her and just watches her, read and try to decipher things. She was so everescent in sunlight. Her wet hair shined, the sun beat down on them with the warmth of summer, the slip on dress with lilacs resembled the scent of the fields below their backyard on the hill, a farm just beneath them along the base of the mountain. Lydia adjusted in her seat, a leg crossed over the other as she read. 

She says nothing and he admires her. He admires her greatly for being smarter than he had ever though, he admires her for being there to investigate further even when he thinks he’s got it done and figured. He admires her for her strength. He admires her for her never ending will to keep standing strong. Mieczyslaw Stilinski admires his wife, the future heiress and carrier of his children more than anything this earth had to offer him. He loved her an innumerous amount and he saw more in her than he had ever seen in any other person. She was no other person, she was much deeper than that. He admired it. He admired Lydia Martin. That was something he would have never said just a year back. 


	54. Chapter 49

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What is Love.mp3 (kiesza version)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry if my french is not great! I'm only a french level four but I only REALLY have about 2 ish years of real knowledge and 1 ish years of practicing writing, so I am kinda using a dictionary website and prior knowledge to write the french out- CORRECT MY FRENCH IF IT'S WRONG PL EASE!   
> Also next chapter is the history tidbit so all the fancy sex slang will be explained i promise

 

Lydia sat back against the chair, leaning her head against Stiles shoulder as he returned to sit with her; he’d been out sending a telegram to his friend with the house. The sun was beginning to set orange light sprawled over their features, and as she looked through letters he jotted down notes. “Oh how romantic, they wanted to elope,” Lydia cooes sarcastically- flipping the letter over to continue reading. “Well I s’pose not all dead people are good people.”

“You don’t know the circumstances,” Stiles tries to reason, then she gives him a look and they both know the circumstances.  _ Poppy.  _ It was morally unacceptable to be so frivolous, to have intercourse with the knowledge something bad might come of it. Though it seems neither really knew before he left and it was planned before- the eloping of course. Unless there was a child before that- or even another child that the two were uncertain of; was there a rift in the relationship? Or did they give the other child away?

No matter what the circumstances stood, perhaps not the child, but to  _ elope  _ was wrong in itself. To go off and marry beyond your parents or families permissible boarders was wrong- and all in the name of what? Don’t they know best? Though to consider that perhaps there wasn’t family- then why elope when it was just a marriage? It left Stiles and Lydia to wonder all the aspects of their lives, though he wasn’t defending their lives in court, just that her death was accidental. That she fell and that no murder was involved. 

Stiles glances over Lydia’s shoulder and scans the paper as she continues to read, lips pursed in disapproval. He watches her with a fondness before kissing under her jaw. Lydia giggles and tips his head and places her puckered, pink lips on his own flush and full pale lips, the two melting slightly, the smell of sweet dinner rolls wafting in from the kitchen behind them. “I’m a good investigator,” she concludes. “I should do your job for you more often.”

“I’d like to argue against that,” Stiles says, their hands lacing and he grins softly at her, a warmth to his look and he realizes she’s much  _ smarter  _ than he remembers. He always knew she was smart, not many women could read the with the fluency she had, nor could they remember things the way that she did, or even their conversations just months back regarding slavery and women's rights, it was smart.  _ She  _ was smart. 

“And why is that? Because I’m a woman?”

“No because it’s  _ my  _ job and I ain’t a phony- I’ll do my work just fine, little miss.”

“No reason we can’t compromise love.” 

“Oh is that so?” he asks, watching her put the letter down.

“Sure it is. You do what you always do and I’ll pick out the finer details- since you lack the strength to do so yourself- hm?” 

“Well I guess that’s one way to do it. Though I wouldn’t dare to ask much of you-”

“I’m your wife, you ask all you want of me.”

“Lydia it’s my job not yours-”

“I don’t care who’s job it is, I want to help you. Will you ever get it through your head that I want to help you and be there for you? That I really do love you and care for you?”

Stiles seems to struggle with an answer, the words just ghosted the tip of his tongue that pressed between his lips in this adorably flustered way. Lydia watched him struggle then resign. “I have a hard time accepting people in general.”

“Which is funny because people love you.”

“On the surface, they love me at parties, they love me for talk. They don’t  _ really  _ love me.” 

“That kind of talk is all in your head.”

“It’s not!”

“It is. Besides  _ I  _ love you for all that you are and all that you ever will be. Forever,” Lydia confirms with a nod, smiling at Brett as he brings out two plates of a fine dinner for them. Two slices of roast turkey with a delectable looking gravy on top, two sides of salads- one a caesar salad with a white dressing on top and the other an italian looking salad, with small cheese curds and tomatoes in it- then on the side were sweet dinner rolls and little balls of butter to spread on them. 

“Thanks Bretty,” Stiles cooes, smiling warmly and Brett ruffles his hair, winking at him, stiles wrinkling his nose in return.

“I’s my job, you know.”

“I know but I appreciate it.”

“We made a whole basket full of dinner rolls if you want more.”

“Oh! I do believe Olive said Bethany would be in labor by today, I can’t imagine if she was she’d have wrote, perhaps after though she’ll inform us. Should we take some down with leftover turkey?”

“Oh surely,” Miss Blake says, bringing her and Brett’s plates to sit with them, Brett seeming nervous and Stiles holding his wrist gingerly, invitingly. 

“Sit down, nobody’s gonna get your head, Brett,” Stiles assures him. Brett nods and joins them to sit, Lydia putting everything aside as she tells Miss Blake how excited she is to see the baby, shuffling the papers and putting them in a folder before putting it aside. 

“-I mean, I just love babies! They’re so sweet and so  _ tiny.  _ How could they cause any harm?” She pouts slightly and Miss Blake smiles.

“They can be awfully loud M’lady. And needy.”

“I don’t mind it-”

Stiles on the other hand was talking about their trip tomorrow. “We’ll only be gone less than a week- maybe a five day trip. I know he’s staying in half the house for the summer with his wife, so he ought’a be there. He left late may to stay there.”

“And why a house not an estate?”

“He’s more common wealth, but still wealthy. He’s able to afford a full summer vacation- what with his business and all.”

“What does he do?”

“Well… I think he’s some sort of chairman of a factory or perhaps it’s not a factory- I don’t remember really but he does something of importance. I’m very sure of that.”

“So you’re staying at the house?”

“Yeah we are. Would you two care to join us?”

Brett shrugged. “Jennifer, They’re going down by the shore for a while tomorrow to-”

“Thursday afternoon-”

“Right Thursday afternoon.”

“Oh is that so. Do you need us?” Miss Blake asks and both shrug.

“If you want to come, you’re awfully welcome to,” Lydia invites and Brett shrugs.

“I’ve made a few friends in the larger town nearby. And I think I could do for time alone.”

“I think we both could. But can you two serve for yourselves?”

“Have you  _ met  _ T’any?” Stiles asks. “Of course I can Miss Blake. We’ll be fine, you two take a break, relax for a while. I promise we’ll be okay- right Lyd’s?”

“Of course my love,” Lydia cooes, cutting into the turkey before folding and sliding onto the tips of the fork, then proceeding to eat it. Stiles nods and begins carefully cutting through the dinner roll, spreading the soft butter smoothly on the inside of the roll. 

They proceed like this, talking and lazily lounging and eating, the four of them together feasting and once they’re done, Lydia goes inside to set up little dishes with small glass containers with metal lids of gravy and salad. Then another with a stick of butter. She puts them all in a lovely picnic basket and closes it, deciding to walk down to see them. She goes to her room to change and upon entering the room Stiles was already getting dressed in a nice day suit: green vest with a gold ascot pocketed in the vest, and a nice white shirt with off white riding tights and his favorite brown riding boots to top it off. She watched him do up the ascot, folding it into the pale green vest with dim gold accents, and grab his pocket watch from his other pants. He pockets them before moving to put on his cufflinks- Brett was in the kitchen cleaning up, so Stiles changed alone. 

“Now where are you going Mister Stilinski?”

“With you Mrs. Stilinski.” 

“You’re going to walk with me to the village next door?”

“Of course. I tend to enjoy your company sometimes- besides the neighbors said if we ever need to borrow a horse, just to ask and It’s been awhile since I’ve ridden.”

“Missin lightning are ya?”

“I am, I really am.”

“So we’re going riding?”

“Indeed we are.”

“‘One horse or two?”

“We’ll see. Wear your riding clothes though,” Stiles assures and she nods, undoing the purple buttons on her white and purple floral dress, then slipping the long, unfitted dress off her body- throwing the slip on the bed, revealing her totally nude body and smiling at Stiles devilishly and he scoffs, amused at his wife- she  _ planned  _ this (of course she did). She sort of shrugs her shoulder and raises her head, Stiles gives her a once over, before leaning over and kissing her neck feverently, a hand pressed firmly to her behind, pulling her close against him. His lips linger, never fully parting from her for the longest time. His free hand resides on her plump breast.

“Oh  _ stiles, _ ” she breathes and a deep laugh rumbles in his throat. He had her caught on a hook, best he leave her hanging.

“Hmm I’m going to get the horses, you ought’a be dressed when I’m back, missy.”

He winks and takes a giant step back from her, leaving Lydia in the muggy room, in her bare body pouting as she looks after him, watching him leave. She thinks of yelling out  _ tease!  _ But she can already hear the laughter of satisfaction he’d give her and she was not willing to leave him satisfied with himself, not when her body jumped at the touch and her inner thighs heated like a fire lit them when he touched her (and lingered at that), it just wasn’t fair to her. So she says nothing at all and turns to change, Miss Blake soon joining her to aid. 

  
  


Stiles trots down the hill and around the first turn to the lush green yard, adorned with bright blooming flowers of the neighbors. He walks to the door and knocks where a child answers. “Bonjour!”

“Bonjour, ou est vous papa?”

“Eh… attendez une moment monsieur!” the small child shut the door partially before running into the house, he could hear a woman’s voice in the background and something of the kid asking for his father- and the father replying. The father comes back and beams at Stiles. 

“Ah! Content de te revoir, Monsieur Stilinski! Quelle pouvez pour vous?”

“Ma femme et moi voulait deux chevaux pour les équitation- Pouvez-vous offrir quelques?” 

“Oui! Oui! Venissez autour a l'arriere!” 

Stiles nods and follows the man towards the back where the man allows him to pick two horses. Advising him which are kind and which are not, alongside which were meant for riding and which were not. Stiles picks a nice white one for Lydia, and he picks himself a stormy grey horse with white dots along the rear end. He takes them up back to the house after he thanks the man for his generosity and lydia is exiting the household in her corset gown, a white petticoat sort of dress over it, the skirt falling in an elegant hoop around her, the pleated white skirt fallen around her waist and swishing about perfectly, her boots clicking along the stone steps as she makes her wait to meet him, the basket grasped in her white gloved hands. Stiles moves to kiss her cheek and she simply receives it.

“Are you angry at me?” He cooes teasingly, pressing his nose to her ear and she tilts her head away with a passive expression. 

“You did me wrong.”

“I didn’t do you at all if that’s what you’d be implying.”

She slaps his arm and he grins. “Oh please, I thought you were a feminist,” he accuses.

“I  _ am _ a feminist.”

“So stop objectifying yourself for a man’s pleasure.”

“It’s an equal pleasure, I am not putting myself in your way for your own good- it’s  _ my  _ own good that I’m looking to. And when your wife is naked in a bedroom, you ought’a do something about it.”

“Mmm I ought’a but I didn’t, we’re saving up some energy for a later date in time- since you’re so fascinated in a rough engagement-”

“Who said I’m ‘fascinated’, we both know you weren’t my first,” she whispers, and he narrows his eyes slightly. “And I wasn’t yours,” she adds in a husky whisper, smirking slightly.

“Maybe, you ought’a forget about it for a week then.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“I would.”

“You can’t handle that.”

“I can sure as hell handle it better than you doll.”

She pouts and pushes him slightly. “You’re not allowed to punish me like that.”

He laughs, almost bitterly, and shrugs. “But if all it takes is getting you a little angry to get what I deserve when we get home, then I’m all for it,” she adds teasingly, though he’s not very amused now.

She hops onto her horse and starts to ride off, Stiles not far behind her, hopping up onto the saddle and trotting up behind her. “I  _ refuse  _ to give you that kind of love. You just don’t deserve it now. Didn’t we say we don’t talk about her?”

“Oh please, you can’t erase it from your memory.”

“I wish I could erase it from yours.”

“Mm if you don’t give it to me, then I can take over and give it to myself.”

“I could pin you to the bed and just go  _ achingly  _ slow. A convivial society, if you may have it.”

“Or we could, if even, take a flyer.”

Stiles brows raise, blinking a bit, then his brows furrows and his cheeks pinken a bit; she knows he’s thinking about it.

“You’d give it a go.” She grins. 

“I’m a bit shocked but I’m still refusing. And why would we need one at home? I’d like to undress you first. The farthest I’d go is to maybe not remove your corset.”

She hums in thought. “We’ll toy around. We have the rest of our lives.”

“That is, until we’re crippling and old.”

“The rest of our young lives.”

“Mmm; it’s ever fleeting.”

“Don’t dim my fever for you.”

“We’re going to see a baby, it must be a match burned out my dear.”

She smiles at him and he sends a cocky one back, the two trotting down through the village through to the next. Following stone path ways and dusty streets, long tree edged roads of green; like an emerald city as they walked past. Like Manganese set on fire. 

 

Olive opens the house door and sighs in relief when she sees Stiles and Lydia at the door. Her face more tired and pale than usual as she greets them, yet she had never looked this happy.  “I just mailed you! Did it come already?”

“No it didn’t but we had a lot of leftover food and well, Stiles and I are going by the shore for a few days as of tomorrow- so we came now. We thought if she was in labor, it would be good to have afterwards.” She raises the basket for show. 

“Oh she just finished birthin an hour or two ago. Lovely baby boy,” Olive says, beaming and Lydia beams back, embracing her friend. “Come, you both ought’a see her.” She lets Lydia in and gingerly takes Stiles arm to help him in and he smiles fondly at her. They go down the hall and to a room on the left. The two enter the small room and Bethany beams at the two of them, Alberto taking the basket of food with a generous smile, his pudgy features in a water set.

“Bless you both,” he whispers and Stiles smiles.

“Bless your family, may a bountiful life come to the three of you,” stiles wishes.

“Amen,” Bethany breathes, looking to Stiles and Lydia with a watery smile, Lydia moving to wash her hands in the clean water basin after removing her gloves, Stiles doing the same then both went over. 

“Isn’t he beautiful?” Bethany whispers and Lydia nods, sitting beside her, touching her arm as she peeks over at the child nestled to her breast, mouth opening a bit at the clothed organ and Lydia giggles. He has dark hair and a big nose, though she can already see that he’d have greener eyes like his mother.

“He’s hungry,” She whispers, her finger pressing gently to the child's mouth and extending his lip a bit, cooing softly to him. “Hi baby,” she softly drawls in an airy sort of tone. 

“An eater like his father,” Bethany teases and they giggle, Lydia kissing the sleeping child on the head. Bethany looks to Stiles, smiling. “Do you want to hold him?”

Stiles nods, kissing Bethany on the head before taking the child in his blanket and dress like clothing. He cradles the baby and the fire in Lydia’s stomach melts to a familiar ache, a sort of want and need that tended to pool in the center of her belly. Maybe it was the sight of Stiles holding a baby and gazing at it so lovingly, maybe it was just how  _ happy  _ Bethany seemed that Lydia- now more than ever- wanted to have a child. She stands and moves to peek over at the child as Stiles leans down to kiss his nose, nuzzling the child a bit as he cooed soft hellos to the child as he woke up very slowly. 

His little hands flailed and his eyes barely fluttered open before fluttering shut again and Stiles laughs very quietly and they all watch him tenderly, Lydia watching him with such a love Bethany thought the girl might burst. Lydia looks to Bethany and Bethany motions her over and Lydia moves to Bethany and sits beside her, the slightly older woman grabbing Lydia into a tight hug. 

“Oh my love, look how happy you are,” she whispers. “When are you and Stiles going to be givin way to your own?” 

Lydia shrugs, hugging her arms, leaning her head against Bethany’s. “Soon, if God graces us. Soon I hope. Soon,” Lydia repeats, and Bethany smiles. “Bethy he’s so beautiful with a child,” she whispers so softly only Bethany could hear and Bethany nods, hugging the girls head a bit tighter. 

“Oh he is, and you will look even more beautiful. The best of all mothers, Lydia,” she whispers back. “Look at my boy, isn’t he sweet?”

“He looks just like you, Bethy.”

“Me? No, he takes after alberto. Look how fat he is, and the nose, he has a wide nose like Alberto… oh he’s going to look just like his father that one. And trouble already, all boys are trouble,” she whispers fiercely and Lydia giggles, watching as Stiles glances up with a very sweet look in his eyes, grinning and she returns the smile. His arms seem to coddle the child, him much bigger than the new born boy: so small he might fit easily in the palm of Stiles or more so Alberto’s hand. Stiles kisses the child on the head before Lydia stands to take him, Stiles arms wrapping around her and kissing her head. Lydia giggles and watches the baby. 

“He’s tiny,” she cooes aloud. “Look how small he is- you can’t even imagine!”

“Just barely,” Olive says, watching the two. “Look at you two, you’re smitten.”

“Stiles would die before admitting it, but he loves children.”

“I would  _ not.  _ They’re too good for the world, so very innocent and pure. Who could hate a child?”

“You wouldn’t believe it love,” Olive cooes and he smiles sadly before looking to Lydia and his features soften, his forehead pressing to her head and humming softly. Lydia parts gently and very carefully, slow careful steps as she approached Bethany with the child- she’d never really held or cared for a newborn, though it just felt natural to hold one or to be with one. As much as she liked being in bed with her husband, she thought she’d much more love a child of her own- or perhaps a few. Six maybe, Five maybe. It would be so nice. To be a mother, to watch Stiles be a father. 

She hands the child over and kisses Beth on the head. “We ought’a be going. We have to return the horses and arrange for a coach.”

“It’s all last minute, huh?”

“Yeah, Stiles has some ground breaking evidence,” Lydia teases and Bethany nods.

“Wish you luck love.” 

The two bid them goodbye, Stiles squeezing Alberto’s shoulder. “We’ll visit again and you and I will have a drink, Alright?”

“Course. That girl ought’a be knapped next!” 

Stiles laughs. “We’ll see.”

“Is it you or her?”

“Neither, we’re not trying  _ not  _ too. We haven’t even been married long,” Stiles defends and Holden laughs now, shaking his head.

“Layoff the lad,” he informs, winking. 

“Growing it out?” Stiles asks, pointing to his scruffy chin and he shrugs.

“Olive likes it like that.”

“Where’s Xavier?” 

“He’s sleeping,” Holden informs and nods and Stiles nods too. “Y’all ought’a go.”

“Yeah we ought’a. We’ll meet up soon, okay?”

“Of course, drop by whenever,” Alberto invites and Stiles grins, the men shaking his hand before Stiles and Lydia leave.

“I want six,” she announces.

“Six what?”

“Six children.”

“All at once or at separate times?”

“Separate of course. Six beautiful babies.”

“Lord, Lydia.” Stiles laughs and hops onto his horse, petting the horses hair before kissing his head and Lydia smiles. It was completely dark out now, and just before they could leave, Olive rushes out the door with two lanterns.

“For a safe trip,” she says, her flat chest fluctuating against her chest, her golden face smiling brightly and they both laugh, taking the lanterns. “Be safe, don’t get hurt. Tele me once home.”

“Of course,” Lydia assures, the two kissing cheeks before Olive rushes back inside to Holden’s arms. Olive kisses him lovingly before her husband retreats into the house, Stiles and Lydia watching them go. 

 

Brett  in the early morning light carries two brown, wooden pales in his hands. Light at the moment but not weightless. He goes down the slight hill and about the little path, ten feet down to a water well. The sun shines on his pale skin and his blonde hair, his blue eyes twinkle as he breathes in the fresh air. He thinks that Stephen would have liked it here and he wishes he could tell him about it. This is really what it was, a deep longing pain, a missing for somebody he couldn’t have. 

Brett reminisces, as he grabs the water, in the idea of kisses pressed to his neck ever so gently and fingers that were almost fearful of skimming over him, as if Stephen had been afraid to break him. For a moment he shuts his eyes, the feeling so present it felt as if his lips really were against his skin; Brett inhales deeply, longing for the touch again. His eyes flutter open to the french sun in the french pink sky and he thinks that the sun is just setting back at home, he looks down and tugs the first pale up and lifts the heavy thing to put on the ground, then attaches the second and does the same. 

Does he miss home? Does he have a home? The past few years Dubrowsky became his home, but now he feels displaced- it’s not really his home. It’s not home the way it is to Stiles, it’s not home the way it might be to Lydia. He has no home, he could lose that home. He could be kicked out and told to never return from that home. He knows it, but still, he aches for it as a home. He aches to see it as a home. Stiles is almost his brother, yet prominently so, he’s also his employer. There’s a line between friendship and employment and Brett knew that, he’s known since he was young. There was always a line.

Brett used to think there wasn’t a line between him and Stephen that couldn’t be crossed but he recounted the morning his father caught them- that was the line. Laying with him, loving him was a line. Should he have hardened? Should he just give up on his pursuits? Brett thinks for a moment, reeling up the pale before sighing and smiling a bit. Love was love was love was love, and love was all he felt in his heart for the people that had been there, that were there, that might be there again one day. This wasn’t the end. And once the pale is up, he carries them inside and warms the water for the bath.

Then he wakes Stiles to prepare for his trip and leave the house by 8 AM and be there by 10 Am, approximately. 

 

Stiles rolls over when brett shakes him, clutching his pillow, mumbling. He didn’t want to wake up, not at all. Though Lydia does wake up at the sudden movement and Brett's huff, giggling as she wakes to the sun and stretching out in her pajamas. 

“Stiles my love wake up.”

Stiles groans and curls up and Lydia shakes him. “Wake up or else will dump cold water on you.”

Stiles eyes flutter open and he looks up at Brett then looks to Lydia. “I feel victimized,” he proceeds before stretching up in an arch and the crooks in his back make prominent popping noises, Stiles falling to the bed with a heavy sigh, absolutely relieved. “Mm that felt good,” he mumbled.

“Come on, the bath is running cold,” Brett tells him and Stiles nods, getting up in his t-shirt and flannel pants to follow Brett to the bath. Brett undresses him then helps him in, Stiles sinking into the bath and relaxing.

“How’s your morning been Sunshine?”

“Interesting.”

“Why so?”

“I’ve just been thinking.”

“About what?”

Brett shrugs and Stiles smiles warmly. “What is it Brett?” 

“I was just thinking about Stephen all of a sudden.”

Stiles laughs softly and reaches out to take Brett’s hand in his own wet one. “You’re strong for pulling through and stronger to admitting you miss him. If it means anything, maybe it’s not over.”

“You think so?” Brett says, looking to their hands and Stiles nods, his thumb pressing into Brett’s palm.

“I don’t believe it’s  _ godly  _ but I also don’t believe it’s nothing God didn’t plan.”

“Is that encouragement or discouragement.”

“Take it how you want, I’m not saying you should go after a woman but I’m also not saying I agree with it. Maybe just because I understand, we weren’t taught to understand- but you’ve never done me wrong and if that boy brings you happiness, there’s no reason I should deny you that. And there’s no reason he might not come back to you. There’s the saying if you love it let it go and if it loves you it will come back?”

“Right.”

“So if he feels the same, he’ll come back.”

“But… that’s not always the case. It’s not like- it’s dangerous Stiles.”

“It is. And he might not due to fear. But you have a double edge sword, according to you. So really… it’s your decision on how you use that.”

Brett nods before letting go. “I have to finish your packing and lay out your clothes.”

“Sure thing,” Stiles agrees, watching him.

“And uh Stiles…”

“Yes?”

“I… thank you.”

“For what?”

“For… not turning me away or trying to change me. I can’t imagine it’s  _ easy  _ for you to grasp but you handle it well.”

“Listen, I don’t understand it, but I’m not going to deny you of anything… I think I did enough damage for others.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s a long story and it happened a long time ago. I said some things I regret and I think it still harps on a friend.”

“I see.”

Stiles nods slowly and Brett smiles. "Maybe it’s not you that’s got em, but the rest of the world.”

“The world is cruel.”

“But sure as hell it’ll be good to you. If it’s not I’ll kick it’s ass.”

“Why?”

“Because I know you Stiles. I know you deserve a little more than what the world has to offer- you’re good somewhere deep down.”

“Thank you.”

“Always.”

  
  


It was Eight O’clock when the coach pulled up and two suitcases were put up on the back to be held. Stiles and Lydia bid the two goodbye before climbing in, Lydia pulling her long braid over her shoulder as she settled and adjusted her dress. She looks to Stiles who still seems sleepy, leans back almost a bit sadly and relaxes. She pets his arm and kisses his cheek. 

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I’m just tired, you know?”

Lydia nods. “Tired physically or…”

“Physically. I didn’t sleep much.”

“Why not?”

“Restless I guess. Maybe antsy.”

“Never been to the shore?”

“No i have been. I just… I don’t know, maybe talking to Mister Matthews is getting to me a bit. It’s grieving delivering that sort of news.”

“You’ll do just fine.”

“I hope so.”

“I have faith.”

“You always do.”

“It’s my job to have faith in you.”

“Nothing about our marriage is a job, it’s an option.”

“But my faith isn’t optional, it’s obligatory.”

“Why?”

“Because I will always believe that you know what’s best.”

“What if it’s rash?”

“Then I’d tell you it’s rash. But I’d have faith that the decisions you carry out will work out. This here, it’s a decision and I believe in you.”

“I don’t deserve you, good god I can’t even imagine how- Lydia I really am not worthy of you, all the time.”

“Don’t say that. Why would you say that?” She has a sort of sad smile on her face, her voice is soft.

“Because… Because life has never been very good to me and I know that. But you’re the best thing to ever come around since the telegram and well… I just don’t deserve that. I’m not a good person.”

“You’re a wonderful person once you look inside. All the good things in your heart make you wonderful. You’re just… rough around the edges is all.”

Stiles laughs bitterly and she turns her face. “Listen here,” she says in a harsh whisper that still radiates a loving warmth. “I’ll hear none of it. You deserve me more than any other man does. You deserve me and I know more than anything, I am most certain on this, that you love me- so dearly and that this is something we’d go down with. You deserve me and I deserve you. You’re not broken, or cruel or spiteful-” her lip sort of curls at the thought of somebody telling him that, she seems upset just saying it, the words sound disgusting on her lips, poisonous. Who could ever tell him that? “You’re lovely. And you’re my husband and I love you. You’re warm and kind and so beautiful,” she whispers, her eyes tearing up.

“Lydia don’t be upset-”

“No! I will be upset because I don’t like when you tell me those things! You’re not cold, Stiles and you’re not cruel. Whoever drilled it into your head is wrong. I expect nothing of you and I believe in you and I love you. Accept that I love you. Accept that I know you’re beautiful, because you are and you’re so perfect and kind. Why is that so hard to believe? Why is it hard for you?”

“It just is…”

“Well I don’t want you to find it hard to trust me… I would never disappoint. I have done so much to prove it to you and-”

“And I do trust you.”

“But not fully. I want your full trust.”

“And that takes time… everything takes time.”

“You have mine.”

“What?”

“I don’t trust many people but you have mine.”

“We perceive the world very differently you and I.”

“That doesn’t change things. Just because you see cruelty in yourself doesn’t mean I do. I know better, I know you. And I trust you, with my everything.”

Stiles hesitates. Trust meant more than love. People loved but did not trust. People love but did not have faith. People loved but did not see greatness. Lydia loved and Lydia saw everything he was. He was terrified. “I… I feel like I’m just figuring you out, like I’m just seeing you. I have faith in you and I love you and…”

“And…”

“I… I have parts of trust that I’ve opened to you. Parts of vulnerability that I’ve given to you, just others are still closed off.”

“And don’t you think I have the same? I know more about you because you tell me more things than you willingly admit.”

“I…”

“You trust me more than you think. And I keep parts closed off but I am giving you locked ornate boxes with secrets inside of them. My secrets of the universe and I leave them on your bedside because I trust you.”

Stiles nods. “Then I trust you too.”

“How much?”

“Innumerously: to no ends and no beginnings. I trust you Lydia, an innumerous and unverified amount- a trust I give to nobody else.” 


	55. Chapter 50

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just Wanna Love You .mp3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LMAO so I got a job and it gives me so much anxiety and I low key feel like my co-workers hate me

It was around ten in the morning that they reached the house, and a young man of about twenty five walked out of the house, greeting Stiles with a great compassion. Stiles had hopped from the carriage and strode towards him confidently, the two tightly embracing, and even exchanging kisses on the cheek. “Mieczyslaw! How do you do?” 

“I’m alright, I’m doing quite fine, actually. And yourself Daniel?” 

“Oh life has been merry! Me wife and I had another child last year- you’re married I see?”

Stiles looks to Lydia and steps back, inviting Lydia into one of his arms and she steps forward with confidence, settling in her husband’s side with a smile. “I have. This is Lydia Martin from New York. Isn’t she a doll?”

“Oh she’s gorgeous! You two ought’a have a splendid time in the house- settle in will ya? We were just leaving to go walk down by the shore. Care to meet us there?”

“Perhaps in a while we’re both awfully tired. Also, can I ask you something?”

“Sure, anything my boy.”

“Do you a know a Mark Ezia Matthews?”

“Mark Ezia Matthews…” Daniel thinks, the stout man rubbing his thick jaw. “Perhaps I do know him. What’s he look like?”

“Well I’m not really sure but I have to contact him about some case work.”

“I see. That’s always difficult. Well, I’ll let you know, a’right?”

“Of course.” Stiles nods and smiles generously. Stiles takes their bags and let's Daniel hand them the key for upstairs, Stiles moving to set things up in the two families house. Lydia find a lounge and settles on the very comfortable cushions, tossing her hair over her shoulder, letting her curls fall over her body, reclining gleefully as she listens to Stiles move about the house- he’s singing something that she doesn’t fully recognize but it sounds nice with his voice, and she can see that Daniel must be gone, because she can hear him hanging his coat somewhere in the house. Lydia smiles and relaxes; it smells like the ocean. She used to love the ocean when she was younger, maybe fourteen or fifteen. She wonders if he does too, she wonders if that’s why he’s in such a good mood. 

Stiles strolls in and smiles as he leans up against the wall, his shoulder pressing to the entrance as he watches Lydia, lounging there, with her dress strewn over the edges of the lounge, her hair falling over her breasts and along her stomach, her eyes curiously trained on the window, as if she doesn’t even see him, and he’s still humming his tune, watching her with his bright eyes, slightly sunken from sleep deprivation. Stiles saunters over and sits on the edge of the lounge by her torso, tugging her skirt a bit and catching her attention, she smiles softly and he rests his forehead to hers. 

“What are you thinking about?”

“How much I used to love the ocean.”

She beams and he swore the sun shone from the look in her eyes, it was blinding with how bright she was. “What stopped?”

“My life took a turbulent way downwards for a while.”

“I s’pose that makes two of us.”

She smiles and closes the space between them, leaving a kiss to his lips and he’s not hesitant to reciprocate. They part softly after a moment, they expect nothing of the other in that moment- there is no needs or wants or desires, it’s just expressive and it’s just loving and kind. They’re just holding each other- melting slowly as their lips touch again, their hands lacing between them. Stiles breathed in her sweet scent, the taste of sweet tea still on the tip of her tongue alongside the bread roll she’d had for breakfast. She still smelled like bath oils and soap, her hair was still fresh and clean, her curls brushing the jutted bone of his cheek.

As they part, her knuckles brush against his cheek bone, her hand gently gracing his soft skin and reclining into the lounge once more. It was intimate, the closure they had in this moment. Stiles rested against her, toying with her hair, taking the curls and wrapping them around his fingers, eyes intent on his handy work. Lydia just rests, shutting her eyes. The ocean wasn’t far from the house, the waves crashing behind her somewhere, people talking outside as they walked, the gallop of horse hooves hitting the ground accompanied by the sound of the rickety wheels hobbling along with the coaches and carriages. Stiles is breathes are soft and warm, present against her skin as he rests. She wonders if he’s sleeping, her hands starting to come through his hair and she realizes she’s still playing with her curls- not sleeping, just resting. Rare was it that Stiles was at rest, but right now, he was resting peacefully with no true motion or stress, his voice starts to hum again - a lofty tune, though solemn it seemed. 

“Sing louder.”

“I’ll not leave thee, thou lone one. To pine on thy stem; since the lovely are sleeping, go, sleep thou with them. Thus kindly I scatter, Thy leaves o’er thy bed, where thy mates of thy garden lie scentless and dead.” he pauses and hums the melody before continuing. “So soon may I follow, when friendships decay, from love’s shining circle the gems drop away. When true hearts lie withered and fond ones are flown. Oh! Who who would inhabit this bleak world alone?” 

Then he starts the song over again and he sings it to her a few times. Even when she’s sleeping, he keeps his voice even, singing the pretty song that she’s sure he must know on piano. Stiles doesn’t mind, he’s just singing- and though he doesn't think it, she finds his voice beautiful. It was so soothing, it was so tender, there was something behind it that she couldn’t quite place. Though it didn’t matter, and Stiles smiled watching her fall right asleep as he sang, watching her peaceful like that. He thinks that he never hopes to see the day her eyes didn’t wake for him- that she didn’t wake to kiss him or hold him, that she didn’t wake to give her ridiculous liberal notions to him, or even just tell him _ good morning _ . Stiles prays he never see the day that he wakes for morning time and Lydia does not. 

  
  


It was a few hours later that Stiles finally stirs to move, to go find what he needed, Lydia blinking awake. “Stay,” she mumbles and he watches her with a tenderness and kisses the corner of her mouth.

“I have to go.”

Her eyes are heavy and droop shut, she wraps her arms around him and tugs on the sleeve of his white shirt. “Stay,” she mumbles again and he kisses her softly on the cheek, making her smile, his lips trailing along her cheeks. 

“I can’t stay.”

“Mm why not?”

“I have to go Lydia. Just spare me two hours, and I promise you can have me the rest of our time.”

“You promise?”

“Of course.”

“Say that you promise.”

“I promise, Lydia.”

“Cross your heart?”

“And hope to die.”

“Don’t die,” she mumbles, eyes blinking open just slightly, revealing green irises. “I love you too much. Don’t die.”

“I won’t,” he assures, kissing her on the lips, her arms wrapping around his neck lazily, not much coordination involved. Stiles smiles and kisses her neck gently and she hums.

“Give me a green gown before you go,” she mumbles and Stiles laughs.

“You sure? What do you want? Tip to velvet or-”

“Mmm tip the velvet, you’re mouth is pure pleasure.” 

Stiles hums and kisses her head. “Maybe when I get back,” he offers. “You’re still sleeping.”

“I’m not sleeping. I’m awake.”

“It’s like you’re sleeping, you’re all tired- look at you babe.”

She laughs softly, her skin flushed and clear of blemishes, soft with sleep and cheeks warm and rosey, her body still limp and soft from sleep, her hands fluttered about his body but didn’t do much, Stiles kissing her softly after watching her a moment and Lydia kisses back. 

“Alright, I have to go now.”

“You’re sure?”

“I’m sure.”

She nods, kissing him once more before letting him leave. Stiles retrieves his suit jacket and spritz on some of his cologne before heading down the stairs to the door, exiting and finding the post. He requests the address of Mark Ezia Matthews, where he is lead to a tiny cottage on the skirts of a hill beside the shore.  _ Lydia would like it  _ he thinks, before climbing up the small path to the entrance of the house and knocking on the door. He waits a few moments before he knocks again, a moment later, it seems that there’s some commotion in the house, some movement and sounds of somebody walking towards the door. That’s when a handsome, tired, dark under-eyed, blonde haired man opens the door and looks to Stiles.

“Bonjour.”

“Good day to you to. I’m here on behalf of the American Embassy- you’re in no trouble, I just wanted to talk. Do you have a moment or two to spare?”

The man watches him before stepping further into the frame of the door, not letting Stiles in.

“Perhaps I don’t sir. Who are you?”

“Me? Oh how silly am I, I forgot to introduce myself. I’m Mieczyslaw Stilinski, I work in Virginia for a law firm, though it seems I’ve come here with some forebearing news and it only seemed right I deliver outside of a conference room in Paris, you seem a good man and a loved man-”

“Where are you going with this?”

“Can we just talk over some tea inside?’

“I don’t think that we can. Whatever you need to say you can say it here.”

“Well then, I s’pose it’s now or never, huh?”

“Go on then, stop stalling!”

“I’ve become aware you had a romance with a woman named Ellen? We'll see, on the way here, I and every other man on that boat encountered a great storm- few other boats have attested to a similar cause to. And well… it seems she’s passed, after the storm she fell from her bunk and broke her neck. We’ve since buried her at sea, i’m sorry to say. And well… she had a daughter with her. She’s since been taken care of by two of my closest friends Mary and Evans. They’re responsible people I assure you-”

“A child?”

“Yes a child.”

“A girl you say?”

Stiles nods. 

“How old?”

“Not a year yet. A year in July.”

“I see…” he pauses. “Can I meet her?”

“Sure thing, just… It would have to be under legal premise and I’d need you to sign adoption papers, giving rights to Mary and Evans keeping her- unless… you deem yourself stable enough to care for her? And any arrangements to see her or be with her would have to be made with them of course-”

“What’s their state of wealth?”

“Wealthy… very wealthy and kind people I assure you that they’re-”

“Is the girl happy?”

“Of course, last time I saw her she’d seemed happy as any child could be. They love her.”

He nods. “When will this meeting occur? I want to see her myself and decide.”

“I’d have to check… see I’m on my honeymoon and-”

“What about Ellen?”

“What?”

“Did you know Ellen?”

“No I didn’t.”

“How do you know all this then?”

“I had her stuff given to me for analysis.”

“I loved Ellen.”

“I’m sorry.”

“She was beautiful.”

“I couldn’t say, when I last saw her she was already becoming something else.”

“Oh.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Why do you keep apologizing?”

“Because I was arranged to marry my wife but in the end, we chose to be happy and i love her so. If I lost her… I would want somebody to apologize, even if it wasn’t anybodies fault- just a whim of god. I would to hear it, that somebody felt sorry for me, at least just a little bit.”

“And why does anybody need pity?”

“Because I get no pity, in times of death come pity.”

The man nods and sighs. He suddenly looks very sad. “I was so worried… God I shouldn’t have sent her on the damn boat-”

“If God wills, nothing can stop it.”

“You’re right.”

“Perhaps it’s in the scheme of some greater good.”

“Perhaps… you’re right I’m sure.”

“I’ll be sure to mail you once i know the dates.”

“Alright.”

“You may be present at the private case, where the death toll will be settled as a ship incident.”

“Just a ship incident?”

“It’s not really anything else.”

“Alright.”

“And I’ll be sure to arrange a meeting for you to meet the daughter and sign papers.”

“That’ll do.”

“Do you need anything?”

“Pardon?”

“Do you need anything, I said.”

“What would I need, sir?”

“Anything… anything I could provide, that is.”

“No need. But you go on your merry way, enjoy your wife.”

“Mourn peacefully,” Stiles wishes.

“Thank you.”

Stiles nods and he turns to be on his way home, his steps heavy with solemn weight, he doesn’t know why but the whole encounter made him kind of sad. Bearing news always laid unnecessary weight on a man. Though he reaches the house and enters through the door, up the stairs to find Lydia wakling down the hall with something in her hands, though she sees him and puts it aside (whatever it was), rushing to him and taking his arms with a beaming smile, in a nightgown and long robe over it, her hair still falling over her body.

“It hasn’t even been half of an hour.”

“Well perhaps just a bit more.”

“Did it go well?”

“Well it wasn’t the worst.”

Lydia nods and leans up to kiss him, Stiles accepting her flavor, tilting his head to kiss her deeper, mouths open, tongues mingling, lips locked firm on each other. Lydia tilts her head up to meet him, and the two are swayed in a heavy kiss, hands gripping the other- roaming and touching and taking with no giving. They didn’t need to give back what was being taken, for it was like tug of war, purely in the center, pulling both ways. She falls against the wall and Stiles presses her body to his, the two clinging as he presses for a harder kiss. She thinks he’s feeling awfully passionate, she also thinks that she doesn’t mind. Her hands pull at his jacket and he discards it, parting their mouths and leaving them panting as he undoes her robe. 

Stiles watches it fall, leaving on a silk nightgown with roses about, just past her knees, he pushes it up and hitches her legs around his waist, pushing her against the wall. Lydia grips his shoulders, watching him. “Thought you didn’t want to go on the fly.”

“I’m feeling spontaneous,” he teases and she grins, pulling off his shirt buttons, their mouths meeting in another kiss and suddenly his hips are rocking against hers, Lydia can’t help but to rock back, holding him by the hairs as she kisses him, as they breathe into each other between kisses, as they hold onto each other with an intense passion. She just wanted to be close to him, she just wanted to relieve him of whatever he was keeping to himself. 

Stiles knew it was just some sudden will to feel alive, to feel rpesent, to feel Lydia present. He wanted her close, and he wanted her as soon as possible, he wanted to touch her and kiss her, and he wanted to be available to her in every way, wanted to feel her in ways that he hadn’t before. Stiles wants her, and wants to feel her, wants to strike wonder in his veins at the sight of her almost fully dressed and coming undone against a wall that didn’t even belong to them. He wanted to watch her fall apart, wanted to watch her cry out, watch her collapse in relief, as if she were a star falling in on itself, watch her come undone and shine for time after. 

His kisses almost urgent and insistent as he makes his way down her neck, licking and sucking, leave small nipped marks along her neck. Lydia lets him, rocking against him, working her way to the button of his dress pants, working to get them undone. She watches him with pure intensity, her head tilting to the side to give him more access, eyes shutting. 

“Well don’t dally too much,” Lydia prods and Stiles let’s out a breathy chuckle, sucking on her collar, Lydia smiling, nails treading along his scalp. 

“Eager are you?” he teases, fingers ghosting over the lace trimming of her panties, tugging them down and she nods, meeting him in a kiss, holding him to her.

“It’s been two days, I deserve some love- don’t I?”

“You’re just a foxy gal, that’s all.”

“Mm that so?”

“Oh surely, most girls are fragile to the touch,” he teases, helping her get the panties fully off, leaving her bare beneath the nightgown. Lydia traces her fingertips over his abdomen, still covered by the undershirt he had on- leaning in to kiss his neck, Stiles’ eyes falling shut as they touch, as they gyrate, as she kisses his neck, just where she knows him to be sensitive. It wasn’t long until she had his steel in the open, pressing to the inside of her thighs, though he doesn’t move to touch her- he waits on her, and Lydia takes his face in her hands and nods, the two smiling small, mischievous smiles before he’s adjusting to position at her entrance, the pressing in deep, their bodies pushing in together and they both release a breath, beaming at the other.

Lydia leans up to kiss him, the kiss brief before he’s moving. Rocking his hips against her, their hips pressing together before he was rearing to slam back into her, Lydia arching up off the wall with a small cry, holding onto his shoulders, her head tilts slightly and catches her lips in an open kiss. She matches his rocking, holding him, one hand falling to his behind, gripping the bared flesh there and laughs just slightly against her mouth.

“Don’t be cocky,” he whispers and she moans in return, pressing him just a bit deeper. 

“Right there- right there!”

Stiles takes her instruction and focuses his energy there, hard rocking, their hips pressing hard enough to cause matching bruises. He could see her sweet death coming on, and his own pleasure was building in his lower belly and at the base of his cock, his control was slowly slipping. Lydia clung to him, his head pressing to her damp neck, the two sweating with the effort, her body rocking against his, spluttering and gasping and moaning so beautifully.

Stiles thought he might just pull her through a bit faster, taking his liberties with her body and handing her sloppy, needy thrusts, kisses fueled with a dirty passion, hands yanking at each other, arms tangled in each other, their bodies hot and flush to the other- both of them wished they’d took off their clothes. It wasn’t long until Stiles released a pearly shower and Lydia collapsed soon after, the two boneless from their engagement with each other. 

“I was thinking to cook dinner,” she says after a moment, standing to go clean up in the bathroom, Stiles following to do the same. 

“You don’t even know how to cook Lydia.”

“I cook well enough. There’s a cooking book I could use, surely it’s not so hard. We just have to get groceries.” Lydia shrugs, watching her husband tuck himself back into place, adjusting his clothes and washing his hands.

“We can find a mart I’m sure.”

“Good we’ll go to Market and get some ingredients to last the week, then I’ll make you a lovely dinner, compliments of your darling Northy Belle wife.” 

Stiles smiles and kisses her gently. “Of course. Who could replace such a Sweet Northy Belle Peach like yourself?”

“So I’m peaches now?”

“Peachy more than peaches. Sweet as a ripe peach, though you have a soft sting.”

“Peaches can be hard, does that make you a peach?”

“Perhaps, a little bit.” 

“One day I’m going to buy us a big ol’ house in the middle of somewhere, outside the United States and make it a great fruit farm, with row upon row of peaches just for you.”

“What a sweet little dream you got there.”

“And bunnies for Caden and a stable to keep Lightening and the other horses. And We’re gonna take Boyd and T’any and Charlotte with us.”

“Brett and Miss Blake-”

“We’ll they’re like carry-along bags, it’s a given they come with us.”

Stiles laughs and kisses her. “You keep dreaming peaches.”

“I will keep dreaming, I won’t ever stop.”

Stiles nods, before exiting the bathroom, Lydia watching him and she bites her lip. An excitement wells in her throat and in her veins, she was going to do it. One day she was going to get him out of there, she was going to make him a home of his own, a nice fruit farm, a place where he could live peacefully, where they could create and live together- fully equals and ever constructive of each other. She would make jams and jellies and balms and even sell scented oils. Somewhere in the house he’d have a big office that was right next to a big library. She would bake and cook with T’any downstairs, making her jams and jellies and cookies and oils, and he’d be upstairs doing all his case work. Right at home, right where he belongs, in a nice comfy chair, surrounded by all his books and files. They’d have six beautiful children and they’d all grow to be something different and beautiful. Lydia felt she could see it, and she thinks that maybe they could even reside in Italy if possible. Oh how incredible it’d be.  _ You keep Dreaming Peaches,  _ he said it as if it would never happened- but no, Lydia was set on giving her husband a place for true happiness. 


	56. History bit (sort of)

So originally I had planned to write this whole thing regarding sex and sexuality but honestly i just don't really feel like it rn but maybe I'll post it for the next chapters! This ten chapters here is a collection of edits I've made for this story! All of them can be found on tumblr! ALSO after work tomorrow I'll have the next chapter up! 

These four were an aesthetic's post for the four siblings, if you'd like to find them go to allineedcd.tumblr.com and then click my "my writing" on the side bar

These last two are promo images that I've upload the past two days on tumblr for the story! These you can also find in the "my writing" link, alongside the "Stydia" link in my side bar! 


	57. Chapter 51

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> polarizing blue . mp3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not my best but things will be more exciting next chapter!

It’s been happening for the past week. Lydia would be doing something or her coffee would be set on the table, and suddenly she’s squeamish then suddenly she’s puking. Their honeymoon- since last week - has been over and it is now July 1st, a friday no less. Kneeling at the basin in the kitchen, Stiles lays her hair down and rubs her shoulder. “Perhaps we should call the doctor in, Lydia. That’s the fourth time this week.”

“It’s just the coffee here smells so  _ bad. _ ”

“It smells better than most of the coffee I’ve ever drank and it certainly doesn’t smell bad enough to puke. You’re never this queezy, peaches.”

“Stiles I’m fine, honey.”

“You’re not fine,” he says, using his hanky to wipe at her lip and she rests against him.

“Carry me to bed please, I’m awfully tired now.”

Stiles smiles sadly a bit and nods, picking her up and taking her to bed. She has done this four out of seven days of the weak. Periodically vomiting, often tired, nauseous, and claiming she’s rather tender breasted and would rather refrain from contact at her chest because it’s painful. He’s  _ worried.  _ Evans is already standing, Lydia’s frilly pink corset dress flowing from his arms as he stands. 

“I’ll go get the doctor.”

“Quickly please,” Stiles begs, Lydia curling into him sleepily.

“It’s nothing.”

“You’re sick. There must be something he can give to help you.”

Lydia nods, already falling asleep in his arms, and Stiles kisses the top of her head. They’ve yet to genuinely enjoy Paris- only been out once, and he just wanted his wife to be well again. He can’t fall in love then certainly lose it- was life that cruel? Mary stops in the hallway watching. 

“Is she alright?”

“She’s not feeling so great. Help me upstairs?”

Mary nods eagerly, following up the stone steps that were not far from the dining room and down the long corridor to their large bedroom, watching as Stiles lay her on the bed peacefully. He starts to unclasp her metal choker adorned with Cameo’s and pearls, taking it to rest on the bedside table. “I should go downstairs to greet the doctor when he gets here,” Stiles informs and Mary nods.

“You think she’s alright?”

“I hope so.”

“You don’t suppose it’s something serious do you?”

“Well I’m not sure…”

“Perhaps she’s with child.”

“Does being with child make you so sick?”

“Well I don’t know, I’ve never seen a pregnant woman like this- you ought’a telegram Bethany and Olive. Let them know she’s not feeling so well.”

“Of course.” Stiles nods and Mary nods as well, pushing Lydia’s hair back from her face. Her poor, beautiful friend seems to be suffering and all they could do was watch. Lydia wakes just slightly, taking Mary’s hand.

“Why do you look so worried, Mary?”

“I’m just afraid you might be quite ill,” Mary expresses and Lydia laughs, shaking her head.

“I’m just sleepy, that’s all,” she mumbles.

“Come on, try to stay awake so you can see the doctor when he gets here.” But alas it was useless, Lydia was already sleeping again. Her head sunk into the pillow, her curls sprawled over her small body and covering her like a blanket. Her face sunken and pure white in rest. Mary leans over and gently kisses her forehead, whispering a soft prayer and her hopes are high that Lydia may just be with child and not genuinely sick. She knew that Stiles must be downstairs praying the same.

Though it took the doctor half of an hour to get to them. Stiles bringing him to the room and the doctor enters with a whim of importance to him. “What seems to be the problem?” he asks, Mary gently prodding Lydia, standing to shake the doctor's hand. Evans retreats to stand beside Mary, Stiles sitting on the edge of the bed and holding Lydia’s soft hand as she stirs awake.

“She hasn’t been feeling very well. Puking, swollen and aching breasts, often very tired,” Stiles explains, and the doctor nods, Lydia adjusting in the bed, her pink dress spread all over the place, weighed down by Stiles’ sitting on it. Lydia wrings her hand with stiles, playing with it. 

“Constantly having to use the washroom?”

Lydia nods. 

“Any constipation?”

“Well… I haven’t really noticed,” she says.

“Cravings?”

“Nothing unusual.”

“How long has this been going on for?”

“About a week.”

“And presumably the two of you are sexually active?”

“Quite so,” Lydia admits, and to the doctors amusement it was her husband who blushed in fine embarrassment. 

“Well I’d take perhaps you're pregnant.” 

“Is it for certain?” Stiles asks, their hands tightening in a grip- god they prayed and prayed so hard that the case wasn’t they were unable to have child. And here they were, 5 months into their marriage and it might really be happening.

“Nothing is for certain but most women display such signs early on in their pregnancy. If the symptoms don’t subside but rather, worsen, perhaps you should head to a hospital and they can give her a better looking.”

Both nod eagerly but aren’t really paying attention. Evans steps forwards.

“I’ll escort him out, we should leave them alone to talk,” Evans says and Mary nods, trailing behind the doctor and her husband. Once the door shuts, Stiles presses a fervent kiss to her lips, causing Lydia to laugh out of shock, her hands moving to hold his jaw as they kissed. Parting, she let’s a breath escape.

“Thank the  _ lord. _ ”

The partial fear had genuinely sunk into the both of them that perhaps they should never have kids, that it simply wasn’t meant to be. They’d not only be disappointed, but they’d disappoint everybody  _ else.  _ So much was expected of Stiles, to pass on the line of Dubrowsky, and they feared that they would never be able to meet the bar expected for them. 

“It’s not certain yet,” Stiles reminds her, though they’re both smiling brightly, tears welling in both of their eyes from sheer happiness. 

“Pray to be certain my love.”

“Do you feel any different? Have you felt any different?”

“I don’t know-” 

They’re frantically holding onto each other, their hands finding their way to the other, locking into a tight hold, gently laying against her neck and he kisses his head. “You’re crying,” she continues, her spare hand brushing his tear.

“I’m just so  _ happy.  _ Aren’t you happy my love?”

“Oh I’ve never been happier,” Lydia whispers, squeezing his hand and Stiles beams, leaning his forehead to hers and his laugh turns into a sob. “Pray it to be true my dear,” she whispers. “Pray it to be true.”

He nods, letting her wipe his tears, even if she herself is crying from relief. Crying from sheer joy. There was nothing more than this that they had wanted. Never would either admit it thoroughly to the other, but both knew. They longed so desperately, and they prayed so hard, it was even times of intimacy might have mumbled a word or two in hopes God would grant them something from their activity. Lydia pulls him into a soft kiss and she could feel the emotion radiate from him as he gave into her. His happiness, his anxiety, his relief; it was all there for her and she never wanted to let go of him. 

 

Mary walks down the hall to the Nursery where Poppy is, the girl instantly raising her arms to get away from her when she sees her adoptive mother. Mary’s features light up as she picks her up into her arms, kissing her nose.

“Hi there baby,” she cooes and Poppy gurgles, her hands immediately going to tug at her mother’s curls. Mary has no arguments, just watches with a full kindness. “Ready the carriage nanny, Evans and I are taking her for a walk,” Mary demands and the older woman nods, standing to go ready the childs carriage for her. 

Mary sets the child on her hips, rocking her slowly as she kisses her head. “Oh you’re going to be such a beautiful girl, you know that? Oh so very beautiful… and oh so very perfect. You’ll be the most perfect daughter to ever be.”

“Just like my perfect wife,” Evans says as he enters the room and loops an arm around her hip and presses a kiss to her temple, making Mary giggle softly. 

“I’m not perfect.”

“Oh you’re very close to being just that.” 

“It’s awfully sweet of you to say.”

She smiles and he smiles back, and they wish they could love like they once did. They desired the inseparableness that Stiles and Lydia had- how the two were always connected at the hip, how everything was devoted to their love. There was an empty space between them, even when he was standing here so close.

“It’s a lovely day to go walking,” he says to clear the silence and she nods.

“It is, poppy would like spotting the birds.”

“Indeed she would.”

“She likes the birds, just like you do. Maybe you can point them out for her.”

“She’s just a girl, it wouldn’t interest her.”

“Perhaps it would. She would like it.”

“Maybe when we go outside, we’ll see.”

“Well the carriage must be ready, let’s go now.”

Evans nods and leads her out of the room and they had to the door that leads to the front of the stone house. It was a large fortress of a place, made entirely of solid stone bricks with a medieval touch to it. There was even a river not very far off from it- Stiles liked to joke that perhaps the plague was still lingering somewhere inside the dungeon and Lydia would shoo him off for scaring her with such a nasty thought. The  _ plagu _ e, as if. Mary would often join in on the fun, she thought that perhaps he was right. The house was so old, she wouldn’t be surprised if the plague really did linger in the rats in the long untouched basement of the household. There weren’t even gas lights down there, just moldy wooden torches.

Mary adjusts poppy from her hip into the carriage, laying her down gently and tucking a small blanket the Nanny brought over her. “Should I push her or would you like to?” Mary asks and Evans smiles gently.

“I’ve got her dear.”

“Surely,” she agrees, moving to stand beside him as he takes the handle of the carriage and pushes the child forward as they stroll along the pathway. They walk slowly, just taking in the scenery of trailing green trees and lush grass. Bushes of flowers, and flowers stemming from the ground in all sorts of colors and shapes and sizes: blues, pinks, purples, reds, tall, small, large, or not. There were birds that were singing and sounded so in love, birds that peaked the ear of the girl and she reached out her hands, as if trying to hold onto the sound.

“That’s the rouge-gorge,” Evans notes and looks to the girl, her head tilted to the side and giggling as she notices a bee flying pass, reaching her hands to grab it. “No, nonono, you don’t want to touch those. They sting.”

“Oh they don’t mean to sting. They just want to go about their way,” Mary defends. “They’re quite harmless really.”

“Yes but if she grabs it, it will sting.”

“Her arms are too short to grab it,” Mary teases, leaning a bit to tickle her babies belly. She almost forgets that she didn’t give way to the child herself, she just loved her so much. Poppy made her feel whole when she was empty. It filled a space that she hadn’t known was gaping. 

“I’m just warning her.”

“She’ll learn and understand in due time, darling.”

“Of course.”

“Right of course.” 

Mary smiles gently, linking arms with her husband. “Smile,” she tells him. “Can’t you smile?”

“I do want to.”

“So go ahead.”

“I can’t help it.”

“I understand but there’s no reason you can’t-”

“Please just let it go.”

Mary nods and her own smile falters as her eyes trail away. If only there were something on earth that made him happy- if only there were something though often it felt like there was nothing.

 

“Mister Stilinski, a telegraph from mister raeken.”

Stiles stood and took the note from the footman, smiling and thanking him. He opens the small letter, Theo’s handwriting so familiar and clear to him it made him warm inside.  _ Stiles: It’s been a struggle really but perhaps it’s for the better. These things change with time, don’t they? I want to change. You said it yourself, things like this are wrong.  _

Stiles smile falters and he moves to grab paper, glancing to Lydia who was watching him curiously. “Well who is it? What’s it say?”

“It’s just Theo. It’s a personal and rather private conversation.”

“You can tell me.”

Stiles worries his lip. “He’s… unlike most men and I suppose he’s trying to change that.”

“Like Brett?”

“A bit different.”

“I think I understand.”

“Do you? Because I certainly don’t sometimes.”

This was starting to feel like the conversation he had with Isaac in the church- and good Lord it felt like ages ago since that day, when he told Isaac to go off and be with Elizabeth Darcy. It’s been ages. Things were so different now.  _ Theo: You need not change, it doesn’t matter what I once said. I was in a bad position then and you’re in a bad position now. You’re just remembering the worst of things because of said ideas. I don’t think I could stand to think you’re hurting yourself.  _

Stiles puts down the pen, folds up the telegraph and then rings the bell, a footman comes in and Stiles hands it to them. “Have this telegraphed to 1052 Darthy Road in South Carolina immediately.”

“Yes M’Lord.” the servant boy nods before turning and rushing off to deliver the message.

“He’s hurting himself,” Stiles concludes slamming the door. Lydia jumps a bit, curling under the covers, she pulls them closer to herself.

“What on earth do you mean?”

“He’s… i don’t know exactly what he’s doing but it’s not good. It’s not healthy. I know it, I just… he’s conversing with Peter Hale.”

“That’s Cora’s uncle.”

“Lydia he’s not a good man.”

“How do you know?”

“I’ve talked to him before and I’ve heard quite the bit about him. He’s malicious. I’ve seen what he’s capable of. It’s inhuman. He’s hateful, spiteful, dangerous. Theo has to be causing harm to himself if he thinks physical training is going to change him. What do you think that man could possibly be doing to him?”

“I don’t know Stiles.”

“Lydia I’m worried.”

“Would you rather go home then head to Italy?”

“Of course not.”

“Perhaps we should just go home sooner. And if I really am pregnant, perhaps it would be easier to do that anyways.”

“Perhaps.”

“Stiles don’t fret too much.”

“I don’t know what else I’m supposed to do… I just… i wish I could reach him more quickly, I wish I could talk him out of this.”

“I know my love. Just come sit on the bed, perhaps some rest will put you to ease. And later we can go walking in the city. Would you like that?”

“It might be nice. Sure if you’d like.”

Lydia nods. “Or early tomorrow, we can go walking.”

“If you’re feeling better.”

“I promise, I’ll be fine by late morning. Now come back to bed.”

And who was he to deny her? He was nobody so he retreats to bed and he kicks of his shoes before curling under the covers beside his wife, head on her shoulder, hand on her belly. 


	58. chapter 52

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> idfc.mp3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A LONGER CHAPTER WHOO!!

The woman was a slender blonde, thin to the bone it seemed, with hair a bit too thick for her face, pinned up into a tight bun. She had a ragged dress, the sort that was plain and worn out. And a small child by her side, not a year younger than Caden or Jack. She steps up to the back of Dubrowsky household, knocking on the servants quarters doors. 

“Hello- Oh my,” Boyd says, blinking. He  _ knew  _ her, T’any said a good word or two about her when he was only 11 years old. 

“Boyd! You remember me don’t you,” the white woman cooes, smiling. “I saw your need for a maid and-”

“You ought’a talk to T’any. That’s T’any’s job, Ma’am.”

“Well alright,” she says. 

“Wait here.”

Boyd shuts the door gently before turning and rushing to the kitchen where T’any is preparing dessert. “T’any, Miss T’any,” he practically shouts as he moves into the room with swift, quick movements. 

“Well what the hell do you want barging in like that?”

“The maid we fired when Stiles and I was young, Madelyn was her name? Well she here for the job interview.”

T’any raised an eyebrow. “The blonde woman?”

Boyd nods.

“To hell that womans’ the devil, tell her we filled the position.”

“Why she got a child Miss,” Boyd whispers. “What if she done starts crying.”

“Oh Lord, Charlotte!”

Charlotte comes running in from their private quarters, standing to attention by her mother, grabbing an apron from the wall and tying it around her small waist. “Yes mama?”

“Go talk to the lady at the door.”

“What Lady?”

“The lady that’s at the door. Am I gon repeat myself again?”

“No mama. I’ll go take her now.”

Charlotte smiles at Boyd before she moves around the counter and out of the kitchen into the big hallway, turning to the left where the servants dining room was, and past the servants stairs. Although the family ate down here in the kitchen, it typically was for the servants. She moves fast, to the door where she opens. 

“Hello there Madame. May I help you?”

“Well ‘m here about the job offer. Can I speak to Miss T’any.”

“Well Mama- I mean, Miss T’any is real busy right now.”

“You must be her daughter. What’s your name again?”

“I reckon I shouldn’t give out that kind of thing, Ma’am. But my momma’s busy right now, she can’t talk-”

“Well then let me wait somewhere- I reckon I have a right to a job, don’t I?”

Charlotte opens her mouth but really doesn’t know what to say, looking to the child, she notices he has a striking resemblance to Lord Stilinski, though he was also very thin and frail. 

“Now are you going to let me in or not?” 

“Yes’m,” she resigns, stepping to the side, letting the woman in, she seems disgusted when they touch arms, as if she’s  _ above  _ Charlotte. “I just bathed this morning, no reason y’all gotta be worried.”

“Sure there is. You negro’s are full of disease,” she says with distaste.

“Well I’d never. We don’t tolerate that sort of attitude-”

“Where do I sit?”

“In the dining room,” she says, walking ahead to show her. There were a few servants, mixed in display, and every older servant stands to clear, the younger servants take the notion and move with them as Madelyn enters the room. It was as if she had the plague and they were all looking to avoid catching what she had. No reason to mess with a girl like that. 

Charlotte retreats back across the hall to the kitchen. “She’s waitin in the dining room.”

“Oh for god’s sake. Finish the cake and take it up to Madame Claudia and Madame Argent. They’re sitting over tea.”

“Yes’m.” 

T’any sighs, going to wash her hands before moving to the dining room. “Well Miss Madelyn, isn’t a pleasure to see you and look at what you’ve got there, a child.”

“T’any, you must understand-”

“I don’t think I’ll ever understand, what you don did to this family is more than anybody else could ask for. You lucky that man’s boy kept his trap shut or else you and his father would’a been high strung by Lady Claudia herself. Rue the day you come back here pinin for a man like him.”

“Now you listen here-!”  
“No you listen!” T’any snaps. “Your service ain’t needed in this household, you go find yourself a place somewhere else.”

“I can’t find anywhere else! T’any I need this, look at him he’s starving-”

“And nobody told you to go on and hitch yourself with the husband of another woman-”

“T’any please!”

“I said you ain’t needed here. Now leave.”

“What’s going on here?” John inquires from the doorway, pausing as he steps in. 

“John!” Madelyn immediately stands to her feet. “Johnny, look I came as I promised and-”

John raises a hand. “Perhaps it’s a conversation held in private.”

“You ain’t really gonna make me hire her?” T’any asks and John looks to T’any.

“Now since when do I need your approval? This is my house, I hire who I want.”

T’any looks at him with a seething hatred before turning her head. “It’s your life to ruin, I’mma go finish the cake for your  _ wife.  _ And if that woman do one thing nasty or out of place, I’m tellin the whole damn town about this.”

John looks uneasy but Madelyn stands straighter. “Who’s gonna believe a negro? Besides I can do a job better than you.”

“Madelyn, easy now, T’any here is family to us,” John says.

“To you. Not to me. She’s just a-”

“Watch yourself, I may not have the power but boy the man Stiles came to be, he ought’a send you to the gallows if he heard you utter such foul words to me. He’d chop ya himself. Or better yet, Odette might come down here and strike ya if she heard it-!”

“Enough T’any!” John snaps. “Go to the kitchen, I can handle it.”

T’any looks hurt, John holding strong. “You may be grown but don’t you forget you was my baby before you was your mothers,” she whispers spitefully before pushing past him and going back to the kitchen. “No good man!” She yells, slamming the kitchen door shut and Boyd stands from the table with one of the other servants, going to her aid. “I’m alright, leave me be.” she waves them off.

“Stiles isn’t like him,” Boyd whispers. “I may think he’s a pain in the behind but he ain’t like that miss T’any.”

“I know he ain’t. He’s a saint on earth.”

 

John stands before Madelyn, the two staring at each other for a moment. “I need this job,” she says. “John I can’t stand to just be sleeping around like I’m sort of rabbit, getting her fur fluffed for a few hundred kin. I’m not doin it no more- it don’t even pay. He’s starvin- I’m starvin! You want to leave me like that? You  _ love _ me.”

“I used to love you… though I still care for you and I of course care for the child, I want to right my wrongs with claudia.”

“And what about me?”

“I’ll help ya but it can’t be the way it used to be.”

Madelyn looks to the shy boy, hugging her thin leg. “I just need this job. John please…”

“Alright, you start tomorrow.”

“I won’t let you down, I promise.” She closes the space between them and lays a kiss to his cheek, passionate yet soft and loving. He smiles, he  _ loves  _ her, in ways that he used to love Claudia… now the only problem was, why can’t he seem to find this love in Claudia again? 

  
  


Down in South Carolina, Theo and Martha are alone in the room and it didn’t seem like anybody would be coming in to bother them (or save him) any time soon. He felt like he was suffocating, he was just straight up lying to Martha’s face, that he was oh-so-fascinated in her, and that he thought her to be quite charming or something. Really, he didn’t. He didn’t think she was charming and though he could appreciate that she was beautiful, it wasn’t the sort of appreciation that came when he saw another man. It wasn’t the same, it didn’t spur on the feeling he got when he had been with Josh or Stiles… nobody ever matched to be as beautiful as his closest companion, who seemed delicate as glass, and fragile to the touch. His skin was almost translucent in the winter but tanned so nicely in the summer. 

It almost made Theo boil with jealousy thinking of how Lydia got to hold him, how Lydia got to kiss him, how she might be naked in their bed right now, getting all his attention and he’s  _ riled up  _ by her- Theo knew it was irrational, that Stiles deserved such happiness and a wife like Lydia, somebody like her was good for him. But she had what he couldn’t, though if he considers it, that Valet of Stiles was all the more beautiful or equally so. Theo wonders if all it really takes to move on is a better man, somebody that doesn’t quite resemble or differentiate, somebody that matches his senses equally and is just a good of a friend. Then he thinks it’s wrong to think that way.

He can’t have a man. He isn’t allowed that pleasure. It was devilish. It was wrong. He half considers that perhaps he was simply born possessed. And looking to Martha, she’s sitting much closer than he remembers and her breasts are much more prominent than the last time he checked. (had she tugged her dress down when he wasn’t looking or was he just paying attention to her now?) 

“Well I haven’t finally caught your eyes have I?” Martha whispers, biting her lip as she watches him glance back up at her face, his own flushing pink with embarrassment.

“Well I’m not one to lie to you but suppose you have… you’ve got… a lot to show for,” he plays along, smiling charmingly. God he doesn’t see much appeal in her body. He doesn’t see the appeal in her- Allison he sees appeal. She really is charming and witty and beautiful, but he wouldn’t so much as touch her. Once when they were 18 he had played along with a little act to ward Matthew Daher off for her, and they had almost liplocked (in public at that), and he never had felt so uncomfortable like he did in that moment. He never understood  _ why.  _ Why he felt this way, why he was uncomfortable, why he couldn’t seem to fall in love with a woman, why the devil encases his spirit and he just can’t seem to escape. His hand makes it’s way behind his back and clenches the fancy pillow. He needs something to anchor him.

“Well there’s more to show under the dress,” Martha whispers, lips brushing his ear and Theo feels  _ attacked.  _ He doesn’t want to touch her, he doesn’t want to kiss her, and he certainly doesn’t want her dress coming off for him. Not like this, not in this moment.

“I’m sorry I can’t do this,” he whispers, backing off from her and she sits up straighter. 

“What?”

“I can’t do this, Martha.”

“I… I’m sorry, I must have come on so suddenly-”

“No, no, it’s not that. You and I have been dancing around each other for a while, just…” he bites his lip. “I don’t think I feel that way for you. You really are charming and beautiful… just that, well you and I ain’t meant to be.”

“You firmly believe that?” Martha drawls slowly. 

“I do… and I don’t want you hikin up your skirts for me when I can’t appreciate what’s beneath them.”

“Is it me or is it something else?”

“More so someone else.”

“Who?”

A girl in Virginia,” Theo lies, biting his lip guiltily.

“Theo?”

“Yes?”

“It’s okay. I understand… I think I’ve fallen quite in love with you but I understand.” 

“Understand that I don’t love you back?”

Martha thinks for a moment before nodding. “Yes… and whomever she may be, she’s a lucky gal, Theo.”

“Thank you.”

“I should be goin.”

“You don’t have to be.”

“I should be.”

“A’right.” Theo nods and she stands, adjusting the purple silk so she looks presentable again and Theo watches her. He thinks how devastated his mother will be to know he’s called it off with Martha, but he also knows if Martha says anything about the ‘other girl’ he’d be swarmed by questions he doesn’t have answers to. Or a person to. “Martha?” he says before he opens the door.

“Yes Theo?”

“Please don’t say anything about the other girl… It’s been a secret affair and I’d rather not disclose the premise of our relationship.”

Martha thinks for a moment before her eyes narrow at him. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think twice. Just consider it a secret safe with me.”

“What on earth do you mean?”

“I think you know.” She let’s him open the door and she seems perplexed in a way, walking ahead of him and down the stairs to the parlor where she greets her parents. “Oh we had such a wonderful time!” she announces. “Theo and I are getting along to be such good friends.”

His mother gives him a look and Theo glances away, even Peter and his wife are looking at him with interest. Martha turns back to look at Theo. “He’s approved of the man I wish to marry,” she announces. “Isn’t that right?”

“Oh of course. He’s an absolute charm. He’s Georgia boy,” Theo says and she nods.

“What now?” Her mother asks. 

“Oh… my y’alls didn’t think Theo and I were willin to get hitched did ya? He’s a brother to me.”

“And she’s a sister to me,” Theo chips in.

“We’re a smart two, best we don’t ruin that with a silly romance.”

“Of course. Who cares for romance when you could pass, hm?”

They both laugh as if it’s some inside joke, and although he’s laughing he feels his insides twist. He’s such a  _ disappointment.  _ It makes his heart sink, he wants to scream. Theo goes quiet after they’re done and he glances about the faces and even Peter seems to have an eye on him. “Well perhaps we should be going,” Martha’s father announces and they all nod. The family is lead out by servants and Theo isn’t ready for the talk he knows he’s about to get. Once the door is shut and they’re sure the family is gone his father stands.

“Theo sit down.”

Theo nods obediently and sits on the open arm chair. He folds his hands in his lap and looks to them. “What is going on with you?” His father continues. “Peter do you know anything about this?”

“No I don’t,” Peter says. “Maybe he’s just having trouble finding love.”

“Theo what happened in that room?”

“Nothing-”

“Theo!”

“Nothing! We were just talking that’s all…”

“Theo…”

“There’s nothing.”

“Then why does this happen with every girl we set up for you?”

“I…” Theo doesn’t know where to go from there. “Maybe I ought’a choose a girl to my standard and not yours,” he near about whispers. He was going to get  _ beat  _ and he knew it. His father may be tame most of the time (that side of him was saved for his mistresses) but Theo knew when he was overstepping boundaries.

“What did you say?”

“Theo stop being irrational,” Peter says. “Speak up would you!”

“ **I just said** that perhaps i ought’a pick myself a woman,” he starts loudly, but as the sentence wears on, his voice fades. He feels small.

Peter picks him up by the collar. “Don’t be weak. You’re no child.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You ought’a be.”

Theo nods and when he’s let go off, he doesn’t stand to not stand straight at attention, as if he’s a  _ soldier.  _ “You have three weeks Theo- Three. Or else I’m really going to finish my business with you,” his father threatens and Theo nods, swallowing. He was a  _ goner.  _

It wasn’t another hour before he dismissed himself from the room. He had his valet draw a bath for him and once the boiling water was ready, Theo let his robe fall to the floor and he steps into the bath before sinking in, completely immersing himself into the water, ducking his head under. He half considers not coming back up. He feels like screaming until his lungs give out so he does, and the Valet watches from the doorway, he doesn’t know what’s wrong but he wishes he could help. 

Theo doesn’t surface for a moment before he breaks through the water panting, his toned chest heaving, his eyes are shut closed and maybe it’s the water or hes  _ crying.  _ His back hits the marble dip of the bath and his head rests on the crown as he catches his breath, wiping at his eyes furiously. He shouldn’t be crying, he shouldn’t be crying, he shouldn’t be crying, he shouldn’t be. He can hear his valet leave and god he hopes he doesn’t go get anybody. A sob threatens to choke him, tightening his throat in that way that’s painful, like he’d never be able to speak again. Theo finally relents and he sounds like a dove with broken wings, he’s been shot down. 

He thought he had this under control but he doesn’t have anything under control. He’s simply spinning in circles. He’s thrashing in quicksand and going quickly under. And his savior? His mother, who silently steps into the bathroom and kneels beside the tub, taking one of his hands and his eyes flutter open to see her, her long, brown hair falling around her, out of it’s updo.

“You’re not so tough now, are you?” she whispers and he sniffles, biting his lip. She wipes one of his tears and smiles. “Even if your father can’t accept you for who you are, I can.”

“Why me? Why can’t I be-” he can’t even finish the sentence, his head falling to her shoulder as another cry rips from his throat and she looks pained, petting his hair gently. 

“Shhh I know you feel like the world has enclosed around you, but my love, some people are just born different.”

“Mumma-”

“It’s okay to be different.”

“Not like that,” he whispers.

“Even like that. What can you do when God challenges you?”

“You face it with bravery,” he whispers.

“And God is challenging you right now. What are you doing?”

“Facing it.”

“You’re not.”

Theo looks puzzled.

“You’re cowering from him. What he gave you… You’re stronger than that Theo. Whatever this is, whatever it is you’re doing with Peter… i want it to Stop. This isn’t my son, my son isn’t a soldier.”

“What if it makes your son more acceptable?”

“To whom?”

“God… society… my own father.”

“God made you this way.”

“How’d you know?”

“I’m your mother. Of course I know.”

“You read through my things, huh?”

“I might have found your letters to Stiles.”

“Oh.”

“He loves you.”

“Not in the way that I love him.”

“And that’s okay.”

“How is that okay?”

“Because somebody will love you better.”

“You believe that?”

“With all my heart, dearest.”

Theo smiles and lets his mother kiss his head. 

“What do you plan on doing?”

“Facing the world with bravery.”


	59. Chapter 53

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarity.mp3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY so sure I've been MIA for quite the while but like okay I have a viable reason (not really) SO i've been working but also I started a Teen Wolf network on tumblr and I've been busy and all that jazz doing both. IF YOU WANT TO JOIN said tumblr network (i'd be ever greatful) do it- we're creationsofteenwolf!!  
> also leave your comments- I love you guys! I'll update ASAP!

Theo hadn’t been necessarily wrong when he’d so much as day dreamed of Stiles and Lydia being naked in bed together. They were in fact naked, and for the love god Stiles couldn’t find it in himself to stop being romantic. She just kept smiling, she couldn’t god damn stop. Of course, at one he had the meeting with Mark Ezia Matthew, but it was only nine and his lips were so deliciously trailing her stomach, making her squirm and tug at his hair. She kept glancing down, as if she was waiting for something.

It strikes her she wants to know how much it gets to him, to have her squirming under his will. Though the thought is long pushed aside when he’s suddenly kissing at the inside of her thighs, hands firm on her thighs, holding her there and keeping her steady. The moan that escapes her is really, actually, quite wrecked (he hasn’t even  _ touched  _ her yet), her hands flying to his hair.

“Stiles if you truly loved me, you’d put your mouth where it belongs.”

“And that would be…”

Lydia pouts. “I’m not going to say it, if that’s what you’re intending.”

“It would improve the experience for me just a bit.” He looks sort of smug and she’s a stubborn girl, she’s never really given in to giving men satisfaction. But her vagina is all but flutter at the kisses he presses to her thighs, his tongue sneaking out to tease the skin every now and again. He’s getting his way and she knows there’s no way out of this one.

“Please, for gods sake, tip the velvet would you?”

“Tip it where?”

“Where do you tip velvet?”

“Well I’d tell you but you know better than me.”

“Stiles!” She all but whines and he laughs, pressing a firm lick up over her slit and her head falls back in bliss, though her body aches in agony when his lips are pressing to her hip bones. Then she wonders if he’ll simply fuck her mercilessly into the mattress and resigns into the touch. His lips don’t go anywhere over her navel. She considers screaming. 

“You’re a tease!” She hisses and he grins, moving up to meet her halfway in a kiss.

“Just say it.”

“Why? Why are you so intent on hearing me use such fowl language?”

“Because it’s  _ hot. _ ”

“You’ve got a kink my dear.” 

“I do and it’s really not very demanding.”

“I’d feel dirty saying it.”

“Oh but you’re quite peachy putting my cock in your mouth. Makes sense.” 

She huffs. “You make a refined point.”

“Just say it and i’ll ravish you until your dying.”

“Well sweet Jesus, that’s the hottest thing you’ve ever said to me.” She relents with a sigh, though she’s quite cocky about it. “Fine, tip the velvet, right on my beautiful cunt that simply can’t get enough of (because I’m so beautiful) and then perhaps I’ll return the favor. Or better let, just let you strip the cocklane.”

“Charming,” he drawls sarcastically and she giggles with a charming confidence, though he stays true to his word and kisses down her body and back to where he left off. One could imagine it’s not long that she’s wreathing in euphoria with his tongue as far as he can push it in his wife, her right leg tossed over his shoulder and the ball of her heel is pressing into his back, her other leg is wrapped around his middle with his heel directly into his ass, as if trying to push him deeper, even if he’s as flush as he could possibly become flush with her. The idea strikes her again as she glances down, he must be riled, just the way she catches his hips adjust, the sigh he releases as he kisses into her. And his hands are twitching against her thighs, gripping her tightly. He’s  _ desperate  _ to touch himself, but as relentless and boarderline innocent her husband is, she can’t frankly imagine that he’s done much to himself.

Though she considers that Jackson had been quite loving towards himself (sexually and non) but he never seemed to grow any hair on his palms. Her hands cart through his hair. She considers asking just to see, she wouldn’t mind if he let her come down for a simple moment. “Have you ever touched yourself?” she finds herself blurting out, and she can  _ feel  _ the half wit of an expression he’s making, confusion and maybe disgust, he pulls away and he licks his lips. 

“What?”

“Have you ever touched yourself?”

“Well if I was any of the wiser, I might suggest you’re just playing smart. Though given the situation- and god knows why the hell you’re thinking about it- I’m going to suggest you mean sexually?”

“In the worst way of course. Have you?”

“Why?”

“You seem a little… twitchy.”

He raises a brow, placing pliant, small kisses to her stomach. “Twitchy,” he mocks casually and grins slightly. 

“You should.”

“Why?”

“Because I think i have a bit of a kink too and really, it’s benefiting you more than me.”

“Mm now I’m not so sure I should be grinding into my hands while getting you off, it’s an awkward position.”

“We can make adjustments.”

“So it really is the city of love, huh?” 

She grins and pulls him up for a kiss, before pressing him to the bed, they’re both grinning and his hands ghost her stomach just slightly. “Don’t be so worried. Babies are tough in the womb.”

“Are you sure?”

She shrugs. “Bethany told me some crazy things. I think sitting on your face won’t hurt much.”

Stiles scoffs and kisses her softly. “Bethany is something else.”

“Oh you haven’t heard the things I have. You were fine being in charge.”

“You like to get a bit out of control sometimes.”

“I’ll be gentle, I swear.”

“You ought’a be… we can’t be sure yet but we don’t want to take any chances.”

“Which is why you should treat yourself a bit,” she cooes, more because she’s a bit more wet at the idea of him ‘treating’ himself, then she is not. He raises an eyebrow but complies not to upset her. 

  
  


Mary and Evans weren’t surprised when the two walked down to breakfast late. Obviously sated and all over each other. Their hands held tightly to each other, Lydia leaning into him. 

“You won't be long, will ya?” Lydia whispers.

“Well I'll do my best,” he assures. “You two are bringing the girl right? Appointments at one.”

Evans nods. “We weren't backing out of it.”

“Good.” stiles beams and Lydia watches with interested eyes. Her mind was racing with the lewd image of her husband's hand tugging at his own cock, tending to his own needs and hers. She leans forward and kisses under his jaw and stiles hums, pulling the seat out for her. 

“Should the girls come?” He gestures towards Mary and little Poppy perched in her mothers lap, gurgling as her new mother feeds her.

“Maybe you should just take Poppy dear,” Mary says. “And I’ll take Lydia out to lunch,” she says.

“Oh are you sure?” Stiles asks.

“If this Mark Ezia wants to meet me, he certainly can come and meet me in our home here before we go to Italy.”

“She’s right,” Lydia agrees. Stiles nods and kisses the side of her head, Lydia smiling softly- he was so elated it made her heart warm with ease. She tilts his head to kiss him, though Brett clears his throat as he places her plate down and they both smile shamelessly, Stiles stealing a kiss from the corner of her mouth anyways.

“You two are absolutely disgusting,” Brett decides aloud.

“Oh the better to spite you with, darling,” Stiles teases, laughing slightly and Brett gives him a pointed look and Stiles gives one back. 

“You get no breakfast,” Brett decides.

“We can share,” Lydia jumps in.

“Oh for god’s sake, just give him the plate,” Evans says, not looking up from his paper.

“Evans lighten up darling, they’re just fooling around,” Mary soothes.

“He’s a servant, servants don’t fool around- they do as they’re told.”

“Evans-”

“Mary, don’t get started.”

“I’m just gonna get the plate,” Brett whispers and the Stilinski couple laughs softly.

Stiles nods and lets him go get the plate, waiting on him, leaning into Lydia and kissing her ear before leaning in to whisper something, a hand covering his mouth and Lydia was giggling flirtatiously. He glances up when Brett sets down the plate and Stiles winks at him. Brett winks back playfully. Lydia beams at them and kisses Stiles softly on the mouth. Stiles hums and pulls away. “Careful, our relationship might make Evans sick,” he whispers and Evans glances up at them, Lydia giving him a pointed look but holding back laughter. 

Evans couldn’t help but feel like somebody always had it out for him. “It’s not my fault you can’t keep your servants in check.”

“Evans I’m only kidding,” Stiles prods. “It’s okay. We may value things differently but that doesn’t make any difference-”

“Stiles let him be,” Mary insists and Stiles nods, turning to his plate. Mary was unhappy, he knew she was, but there was nothing he could do to make any difference. Not that he felt like he could. Stiles looks to Lydia and smiles, Lydia looks back with the same sort of helpless look and smiles back. 

 

Around 1.15 is when Mark Ezia entered the room, where Evans and Poppy were. Poppy was on Stiles’ lap (to Evans’ dismay) sucking her thumb and tugging at a button on Stiles suit jacket, leaving him to toy with her fingers to stop her from yanking the gold colored button clean off the jacket. Stiles kissed her little head and smiled. “Can you imagine that there’s a good chance that Lydia and I might have our own soon?”

“She’s not even ours, you say it like she’s mine,” Evans says and Stiles seems perplexed.

“What do you mean?”

“Just… I think I would love this little girl so much with time but what if that man waltzes in here and wants her back?”

“He doesn’t seem kindly perhaps-”

A knock sounds at the door and a french servant enters.

“Monsieur Matthews is here,” he announces in poor English and Stiles nods. 

“Let him in.”

The man nods and brings Mark Ezia to the room where Evans fall silent and seems almost grave- Stiles feels a slight guilt because the girl is therapeutic to his friend, he knows that she is and really, Evans is already deeply in love with this girl and his wife- he just has trouble showing it. Much like his brother who has trouble simply being. Stiles stands though with grace, putting Poppy down.

“Mister Ezia Matthews! It’s a pleasure to see you again.”

“And you are ever hopeful while I’m in mourning.”

“Well in all due grief, there is always hope for a better coming.”

“Surely.”

Evans stands and waits to be noticed. Stiles knows that Matthews wouldn’t be the one to take notice so he clears his throat a bit awkwardly. “Mr. Ezia Matthews, this is the girl's current foster father, Evans-”

“Right well let’s get started.”

Stiles nods and they all sit down to start the process. He is once again outlining laws and legalities, not that Mark Ezia seems to cling to a single word. Though he explains it and he takes any questions- and he explains it again. Evans seems bored but he smiles when the girl tugs for him to hold her, he bounces her in his lap and occasionally cooes to her. She’s perhaps the only light in a dim office room. There are drab paintings of the lawyer it belongs to and it has no colors and barely a window for light to see through- Stiles thinks that he prefers his office back home with the big bay windows behind his desk at the end of the room.

“So what about the girl? What do I do with her?” Mark asks.

“What?”

“Well if I’m not here to take her then what am I here for?”

“Take her, I thought you were signing adoption papers,” Stiles proceeds slowly, each word falling carefully. 

“Well don’t I get some time with her?”

“Not outside the clutches of her foster parents, no. You don’t get to  _ take  _ her anywhere, she’s not even over the age of one- Y’all can’t just  _ take  _ a baby?”

“Y’all? Jesus Christ, you’re southern trash.”

“I’m richer and more powerful than you’ll ever be. Now if you want to sit with her arrange a date before next week so we can then set a date to sign the adoption papers.”

Mark narrows his eyes at him then turns to the girl who is sleeping now. Evans parts her hair and kisses her head gently.  “What’s your deal in all this?”

“I’m her foster father,” Evans says. 

“Oh sure, but what are you gaining from her?”

“A family member?”

“This is not a matter of self-gain, Mister Matthews-” Stiles tries.

“Then what is this?"

“This is them gaining a daughter, there is no money profited, why would you think that? What kind of gain is that girl gettin  _ you  _ if you took her? What are you thinking will come out of it? That you take her, and then tell your boss, whomever he is, that you’ve got a child now and you need the money- so much more money, and-”

“What is it to you? You were born into wealth.”

“And yet I still work hard and know better than to misuse a child. Who will watch her while you work? Who will feed her? Who will nurture her? When you can tell me, you can tell me you want to keep her.”

“I’ll make dues.”

“If you make dues, make them now. Make them by Friday, show me that you genuinely care for this girl who may not even genuinely be your child, and then you can tell me you don’t want to sign the adoption papers.”

“You’re a fucking hoax.”

“Excuse me-” Evans starts, hesitating before shaking his head. “He gave hours to serve the case of your dead fiance in a trial all the way in Amien- gave up his honeymoon with his wife to make sure her death is justified and this girl is taken care of but you- a selfish cruel man want to tell me that this is how you treat him?”

“Like the damn hoax you both are! I’ll sue if you don’t give her up to my liking.”

“Sue, go on but I have the advantage in all ways possible. I’ll win before you even make a statement.”

Mark Ezia Matthews gapes before yanking the adoption papers and signing his name. “The girls yours, I didn’t want the bastard anyways.”

“Better on her.”

“Better on me.”

 

“Lydia?” A man asks and Lydia looks up as well as Mary. “Mary?”

“Jackson!” They both say, both genuinely not very happy to see him but Lydia smiles all the same, just so he doesn’t cause a scene in the restaurant. “What are you doing in France?”

“I’m on a vacation.”

“Oh.” Mary nods nods. 

“How’ve you been?” Lydia asks.

“Much better than you could be with that southern ass hole.”

“I would beg to differ but I don’t have the time to detail my personal life.”

“And I don’t have the time to care.”

“So why are you standing here?” Mary asks. 

“Only to be polite and I don’t have to be.”

“Nobody asked you to be.”

“And why do I suppose you’re here together?  You hated each other.”

“Well we’ve had a bit of a rekindling,” Lydia says, watching him intently, hand idling about her fork. “We’re really close friends actually.”

“And if you don’t mind, two girls who are very close, like to be left alone to dine peacefully.” 

“Oh how impolite of me- surely you’re up to better things to talk to your ex-lover,” Jackson replies with spite and Lydia is about ready to launch the fork at his face.

“Well she is dining with her new lover and frankly I’m the best to be had,” Mary whispers, standing up to match Jackson. He blinks at her, stunned at what she’s said and looks to Lydia who seems bored and uninterested before huffing off. 

 

“He was a complete asshole!” Stiles bursts, as he and Lydia enter their bedroom. Lydia worrying her lip hoping nothing comes of her escapades out at lunch. Stiles turns look at her, shutting the door. “I swear, if I hear a word from that man regarding-”

“How bad could it have been?”

“He started cursing at me because I told him that using his daughter for cash was wrong!”

“She’s not even one year old!”

“I know, and I was trying to tell him that I don’t trust his usage of her and that Evans and Mary are more than happy with her but he was insistent-”

“So he didn’t sign the papers? They’re giving her away…?”

“No, he signed them.”

“Wha- but you just said.”

“Well he threatened to sue me and I told him I had the upper hand, he just can’t win. So… well… Mary and Evans are keeping her. She’s theirs.”

Lydia nods and moves to take his arms. “Was it really that bad?”

“He bugs me.”

“Be kind,” she whispers.

“I was  _ kind.  _ Up to a certain point.”

“Stiles.”

“Yes?”

“Be kind.”

Stiles sighs and she smiles, leaning up to kiss him. Stiles leans into her, cupping her soft face and parting slightly. “Why be kind when the world is cruel?”

“Dousing the fire is better than fueling it.”

“Ever the wise one my dear.”

“The better to help you with, love.”

She wraps her arms around him and rests her head on his shoulder. “You’re very capable of greatness- though all greatness comes with kindness.”

“Alexander Hamilton was not kind.”

“Sure he was. He was a likable person, a loveable person. Just like you.”

“Much unlike me.”

“Not at all, just like you my love. You are the kindest, most spectacular person I know.”

He almost says he doesn’t deserve her, but then he wonders if maybe he really does. That all negatives are countered with positives and if he remains negative, she will always counter him with positivity. He loves her. He really does. She loves him. She really does. Negatives and positives match. So he does, in all terms, deserve Lydia Martin Stilinski, for all that she was worth. 


	60. Chapter 54

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Without you.mp3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry it's taken me so long to update! I have had a lot of inspiration for other work, not only that but I have the whole war aspect planned out and I think the next two or three chapters are going to be time skips which will eventually bring us home, if you guys don't mind it? The honey moon phase is all really the same, boring old things. We'll brief in on Italy and that will be a whole chapter, then we'll brief in on the way home, which will lead to the way home, so soon we'll get right into the action of 1860! Thank you so much for being patient and a special shout out to Justina who has been reading my work and commenting since the start of this beautiful story! 
> 
> ALSO I have created a teen wolf network called Creations of Teen Wolf and if you'd like to request anything, go ahead and leave a request in our inbox, and either me or one of my other memebers will fulfill the request for you! The network is on tumblr, feel free to check it out, look through our work. Thank you so much loves :*

The letter, written in perfect script, detailed the adventures that he had in all their worth to his very one and only mentor Mr. Stoker. He pens it carefully, is sure not to splotch and details the whole world that he has seen so far from start to finish, beginning to end. It read, and very much so, the following content: 

_ My Dearest Mr. Stoker, _

_     I recognize my tragedy of not writing you in the recent times in few months past. I do hope you received my few telegrams though and that they were perhaps comprehensible at best? Though I have much more to tell you then a few short words on a small paper. I have seen and done so much in the past few months, and I have been so overwhelmed with joy that I hardly recognize myself sometimes. I hardly understand  that this is truly what my life is shaping up to be, building up to look like. The world is not so cruel of a place after all (though the papers do detail horrid things in what may have been brilliant places) and everything seems to glow with a pride that I couldn’t explain in words to you. There are gardens of lilacs and roses that scent the air totally and bakers who sell bread for a penny. To Lydia’s joy, the flowers that grow are perfect for pinning in her hair and hats, she thinks that they’re the most beautiful things she’s ever seen. _

_     Though France has built up to be quite nice so far, there was the boat ride. It was tiresome, gruesome and tiring. The scent was so disgusting and thick that you could never escape it. It always felt like people packed up in herds, unable to escape each other. At some point, Lydia’s and I’s intimacy faded for the simple fact that we were just so dirty, and really I never want to feel that dirty again. I take into the relief of water in a bath as consistently as possible- I do not look forward to the boat ride back. Really, I don’t, Though it is inevitable, I wish transportation were faster- wish things like boats in the sky or trains that jet underwater. Wouldn’t that be something else? Though on the boat a horrid storm occurs, as one might expect, things cannot be doge and peachy for all it’s while but you never felt something so disastrous. We were so sure the boat would be taken under by an angered god of the sea, drowned by the clutches of a Kraken. It was so horrible that one of the women who tumbled off her bed snapped her neck to gruesome death. A single mother looking to elope with a man named Mark Ezia, and her daughter out of wedlock was given to our friends Mary and Evans. _

_      Mary was the daughter of one of the Martin’s friends and previously a friend of Lydia’s. She claimed we’d met before and though I don’t recall her, she is the light of our lives. A lively young woman who just wants to laugh, but her husband Evans is a dreary man. I could tell you that Mary is really quite beautiful and I think that she deserves better than her arrangement with Mr. Evans Caldwell is his name. He’s really a solemn person and I wish I could make him become less so.  Though I think he is sad the way that Caden is “Slow” so to speak. These are things of the human psyche that we just cannot help, things that we are born with. He is sad the way that I am constantly fidgeting and jittery and unfocused. We ought to wonder why it should be that way but there are no viable answers or truths that we can give to them. People are just the way that people are. Though mary took the daughter of the deceased woman, a poor woman as I said before and I am currently- at the time of this writ letter- preparing to present her case and show that no intentional harm was served on the boat by the Captain nor other outside party.  _

_      I should also inform you that the past few days have been an elating and exciting, overwhelming feat. The doctor suspects that Lydia is showing signs of pregnancy- and I couldn’t say that I’ve ever really wanted to know something so much before. It was such a rushing relief, had I been thinking my dearest wife was sick and oh how cruel life could be to snatch her from me so quick, but to our surprise she wasn’t ill at all. Though she does still sleep quite frequently, and she goes green in the face around ten in the morning every day, I wouldn’t say that she is doing unwell. She recovers rather quickly and she really does like France. She adores the fashion here in Paris- she says it’s ‘quite odd’ and ‘rather foreboding’ but it appeals to her. She was looking at some gowns the other day but she didn’t pick anything specific out or schedule a fitting, I encouraged her to return to a salon, one of them at least, and she said that perhaps a day that she and I can go together. I thought that perhaps later this afternoon I could take her for some shopping and lunch before we return to prepare for a party.  _

_         The party is being held by a Duke that I know that has a house along the river here in Paris. We’re going for a casual sort of party and sit out on the deck above the river. It sounds nice, rather than not and I’m really quite excited. I haven’t talked to Duke Allonsay in a long time, it elates me to be in such a prestigious man’s presence. He always knew how to hold such good conversation, and he’s nothing less than handsome in everything he does- be it dress or looks or presentation of self and all he has, everything he is and does is simply very handsome. I would beg to be him, to be as splendidly lavish and luxurious. Given the millions that I have in the bank, countered by thousands a day more, I should think that I could hold up such a lifestyle and perhaps I already do in a similar sort of fashion but you would never understand the feats of grandeur until you’ve endured Allonsay’s presence. I never enjoyed being with anybody (excluding Theo of course, Theo holds my grandest of gestures at all times) than I had with Allonsay, I had never felt somebody be so rich and so tender in person. His own elation to see me again held promise for the evening, as he was so ‘pumped’ to see me as he described it. He’s young but he’s not too young, we’re going to his apartment tonight. Though it’s more a house in a building than it is an apartment, he had me over for tea there once, it was really quite nice. _

_       It was the year I turned eighteen, when I was touring after my Graduation. I remember we had come into acquaintence at a ball and he said that he really quite liked me and invited me over to his apartment to talk. I had accepted the gesture easily of course, at the time I presumed him likeable and really much fun. We had sat to tea and I felt very connected to him, we had talked for hours about politics and issues that the world faced and wars and all sorts of things that one might talk about. Though, I feel Theo would really be quite jealous if he read this, because Theo and I have had all sorts of similar and much deeper conversations too; he’s my closest companion and I really quite care for him. But wow you ought’a have been there at the tea with Allonsay. His apartment is really just splendid and when I was invited down to hunt at his house, I was simply stunned. His family seemed to descend from Marie herself, it was so grand and luxurious. He makes you want that sort of thing in life, grand and luxurious. He makes you long for the best of the best, the most expansive wines and champagnes, the best fish of the ocean on plates made of authentic marble with gold lining. He makes you want to be as expensive as possible. I never treaded the thought of living to be expensive until I treaded the ground he walked on. I should hope he offers nothing less than a splendid time later in the evening, I’m to keep you updated.  _

_    You better be alive when I get back _

  1. _Stilinski_



 

Stiles puts the quill down and leaves the pages there to dry with small weights on the corners to prevent them from possibly blowing away. He adjusts from his seat at the desk and glances over at the bed to see a very rumpled up and sleepy Lydia pouting up at the ceiling, shutting her eyes slowly. “Go back to sleep,” he advises softly, his direction wielding towards the bed and relaxing against the edge of the side she was on, one arm boxing in her small torso, the other had his hand just under her breast. He watches her tenderly, rubbing circles in the underside of her breast. 

“Mm I’m not tired anymore. I just don’t want to get up,” she tells him. 

Stiles nods in understanding and kisses her collarbone gently. “Well how about this? You get up and I’ll take you out for luncheon and do some shopping around in Paris. Then we can come home for a bit so you can rest and then we’ll prepare for the party.”

“Oh that does sound nice. I would love to go out.” 

“Your lucky day, huh?”

She grins and leans forward to catch him in a kiss, holding his face in her hands. She loved him so. She really did. “Ring for the maid please?”

“Yes dear,” he cooes sweetly and goes to ring for the maid then pulling his own and waiting for Brett and Miss Blake to show. Stiles wraps his arms around her and she leans into him, holding his arm. 

“We’re going to have such a lovely time.”

“The loveliest really…” he smiles and kisses her shortly on the lips, holding her tight to his chest. His head leaning against hers and she grins proudly, as if proud to be his (because she is) and she gazes up at him with a loving tenderness. How was she so lucky on earth to have somebody so intense and wonderful? She could never figure it out. 

 

The sun was cool on them today, it wasn’t beating down so harshly and Stiles and Lydia had thoroughly enjoyed their lunch. Walking down the streets of Paris, Lydia made a note to step on every single tile. The whistling of a train is behind them, and she watches the tiles carefully, stepping on each stone step, taking her slow and careful time, Stiles walking beside her and watching with faint amusement at his child like wife. 

“You know what would be real revolutionary?” She asks, looking to him.

“What’s that?”

“If they put trains beneath the ground, it would shake the earth like no tomorrow but if they put em deep enough they’d just zoom off beneath our feet.”

“Lydia don’t be silly. That’s a feigned idea of blasphemy, absolutely propostrous. Besides, don’t you know what lies beneath the grounds of Paris?”

“No, I don’t. What lays?”

“The dead.”

Lydia hops back a bit, moving onto the grass, then looks around a bit mortified and moves back onto the tile. “The dead?” she whispers, and Stiles nods, biting back laughter.

“Yes the dead. Beneath the city of Paris is all tunnels worth of bodies and bones. One ontop of the next on the next. They’re all den on the bottom of earth, rotting beneath the streets.”

“You must be joking, Stiles. Stiles tell me you’re joking.”

“Nope.”

“Really?” 

She looks disgusted and he’s certainly amused now, watching her relent as she walks careful slow steps with no hop to them. She looks uneasy. 

“Why would they put the dead under the streets?”

“Paris is a big city. No room for them anywhere else.”

“Sounds like something you’d like to see, walking beneath the ground just to see the bones, you like horrors like that.”

“How do you know?”

“Some of the books you have are really quite frightening. I’ve read them.”

“That’s why you couldn’t sleep last week on Saturday, huh?”

“Perhaps.”

“It’s thrilling. And besides, they’re just bones. The spirits have gone to god by then.”

“But Devils linger.”

“Carry a cross by neck and God shields you.”

“Don’t tamper with the dead.”

“You suggested it.”

“Perhaps the dead should make way for the trains.”

“How would they get them down there?”

“Well to hell if I know.”

“Lydia darling, don’t curse, it’s not becoming.”

“Don’t tsk at me, dear, it’s not characteristic of you.”

Stiles laughs slightly and kisses her head. There was a poster on a post as they passed it. Lydia stops to read it.  _ Nous Sommes victorieux! Aide vos soldats dans la victoire suite.  _

“What’s going on?” She asks. 

“There’s a war with Italy, if I’m correct. Between Austria and Italy, France is an Ally.”

“I see. Is it bad?”

“Well I haven’t really looked into it, with past papers and all that, we’ve been quite busy.”

“So you’re right. We have been.”

“Besides, if anything it’s not so important. Wars are fought and over before life could seize to exist.”

“Do you think there’s going to be a war at home?”

Stiles thinks and he shrugs. “Some say there might be but if one breaks out between the states, it sure isn’t gonna last long. One don’t do without the other.”

“And the other don’t do without it.”

Stiles smiles at her and she smiles back, the two sharing a thoughtful kiss and Lydia rubs the fingers on her hand along the sleeve of his forearm, a soothing and gentle notion of love. She leans on her toes and gives him another kiss, the two wrapped in the love of the other. She doesn’t do without him and he doesn’t do without her. One don’t do without the other. 


	61. Chapter 55

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> pray you catch me. mp3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is one of the most intense and one of my faves I tihnk. Also leave comments!!!! Tell me what you think please, tell me your hopes, tell me your thoughts, tell me anything, just say that you like it. I'll take it, I'll love you forever. Please comment!!

The late heat of August made the blood stench more than it should. The water wasn’t soothing or stopping it. There was a considerable feeling of death looming in the air. Thick and heavy was the scent of fear, the heart that beats tremoring, trembling, hurting was alone. Theo was alone, ended in the endeavors assumed by his father, secret to his heart. Peter and his father were Merciless. With no contact to many, he’s been locked and overworked and bruised. Worked harder than any man could. It was the southern way of turning fags into men, that’s what his father said. Said he never seen a man who survived stay ‘pansy’ and Theo held tight. The physical world can’t hurt him. The physical world can’t hurt him. Pain, he can tolerate pain. He can tolerate the wounds and the bleeding- but the brutal words, the spitfire, the hatred that boiled in his father hurt. A hundred woman and a thousand children and Theo was the one he despised the most. 

Raquelle knew this by heart. She knew their names, she saw them. Girls her age or younger. She was barely reaching thirty and she was so lonely. She constantly begs answers to why her parents deemed her marriage at 14 to be to him- and if anything, Theo was a ‘gift’ and he denies her all else. It was the most intimacy she ever had. She feared to ever give herself in to others, that it would break his heart. But where is she to worry of his rigid, bloodless, black heart when her son was dying at his hand? Her son was dying at his hand. Through his spite, through his bite, through the whips and the beatings and the mindless yelling. 

He never stopped yelling. Not at her and not at Theo, her darling Theo who was on the otherside of the sealed barn door, making her unable to reach her. The anger that welled her strummed and her hands itched to hold a gun and watch him fall to ashes under touch. Watching go stiff and watch him get burried. Wasn’t it enough he deprived her of love and of life, but now of her only joy in life? Her only hope? 

“Theo please, Theo! Theo don’t give up for me, don’t give up for mummy, I promise it’s gonna be okay! One day we’re going to be okay,” She begs, sobbing, nails raking down the doors firm wood. She needed a way in, a way to him. Theo was strong but he was beaten and bleeding, how much longer did she have? Did she have no time at all? A sob breaks through her body as she tries to breathe deeply. She needs a way to her son, a way to Theo.

 

Theo reaches for the door but he’s too far and it hurts too much. He can’t tolerate it, he can’t tolerate this much, he can’t tolerate the hurt and the pain and his hand goes limp against the floor. He’s no idea what to do, or how to tell her he’s okay, that Peter or his father will come back for him with somebody to clean him up and that it would be okay. Yet… there was so much pain, the stench was blistering and the heat was murderous. It was hot enough to burn and he felt like he was losing his breath. Like he couldn’t breathe. 

How to tell her he’s okay? How to get a final word out? An assurance? A plead? Even the tears that stream are silent and he bows his head in silent prayer. If there was a god, he was there now waiting for Theo. Theo knows this, Theo believes that things were not the cruelty that his life and his society presented. He prays that life holds firm. That he would make it forward, that God doesn’t let the devil win. HIs father was a demon to be defeated and-

 

And Raquelle stood, her bleary eyes shadowed with tears and her hands find the axe in the wood, taking slow steps towards it, she moves with an urgent but slow step. Unsure yet too sure, her hands gripping the wooden handle and yanking, pulling the heavy tool from the wood that it had been pried into. She drags it behind her before staring at the barn door and raising the axe, then striking down the middle forcefully. Her anger fueling her, fueling her hatred, her hurt, her pain. She strikes twice, three times, and a fourth with the whole panel shattering beneath her force.

The rage doesn’t stop and with a brutal swing she removes the three foot lock off it’s hinges, prying it from it’s hold and thrashing the whole of it to the ground, leaving the metal to clatter down to the dirt floor in the front of the barn. She pushes the door open and rushes inside, grabbing rags from the stable closet and goes to find water before dragging it Theo. She sits beside her son and kisses his head.

“Mommy’s here baby, mommy’s here….”

Theo weakly twitches his fingers, barely able to keep up, keep awake and Raquelle is working steadily at his body. Working easy at him. With shaking hands she tears her dress and pulls a thread of string, then pulls one of her hair needles and threads the strand through the hair pin before starting to stitch his wounds with the fray's of her gray dress. Cleaning and stitching until he’s fixed, a stable boy entering and moving to help her.

“He really outdone ‘imself this time-”

“Yeah he really did. Y’all go fetch the doctor and don’t let him know, I beg you please. If he knows you got the doctor then it’s the three o’ us. Ya he’rd?”

“Yes ma’am,” the stable boy whispers before rushing out with a horse running beside him before hopping on. Raquelle hugs Theo’s chest, sobbing softly. “Theo stay with me, please,  _ please _ !” she whispers, tears streaming down her face. “Please, I need you okay? You need to stay with mommy, okay? Stay here… please.” 

“I… okay,” he mumbles, a small hint of a smile on her lips and she sobs in relief, holding his neck in her hands, face pressed to his shoulder. 

“You’re gonna be okay,” she mumbles, and she knows he can’t hear her but she needs to say it. Theo’s going to be okay. Her baby is going to be fine. That’s all that mattered to her. 

  
  


_ Dear Mr. Stoker,  _

_    I beg of you your attention to the dear friend of your apprentice Stiles, my son Theo Raeken. He identified himself only to himself as something that shall not be said and upon his lack of ability to choose a wife, still mingling and choosing, his father took it on himself with a personal trainer to give him a personal taste of hell. I had to save his life with my own hands to day. I never want to do that again. I never want to have my son’s blood all over me again.  _

_    What I need from you, and from any acquaintance you have, is help. I can’t be here anymore. I can’t watch him leave every day and know he’s providing better to his mistresses and their children, then I, his wife at only 14 when I married, and his son, who’s nineteen now. Theo was all he gave me, only resulted from the first few days of our marriage, I am certain. I have not been touched since. I am as close to the virgin mary as any woman could be, I am so loyal and so faithful but I refuse to be. I can’t be faithful when all he’s done is beat me and cheat me and leave me. I can’t be faithful when he takes my son from me. I refuse. _

_        But how am I to leave? I’m stuck. My son is tuck. Please… I beg of you please, get help. Help me. Help my son, and as soon as you possibly could. I need somebody to side with me. I want… I want him over with. I want him done. I want him ruined and begging. I want to own everything he has and I want him to have nothing. I want my life back. Perhaps you can’t give that to me, but you’ve done miracles before- can’t you do miracles for me? Write me back, with so much as advice, I am only begging like a poor beggar on the Irish street. I need the help. I need the gain. I need to leave and so does Theo.  _

_ Bless you, _

_ Raquelle Raeken  _


	62. 56

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After their honeymoon in Italy, Stiles and Lydia are thrown a ball for their arrival

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow have I been MIA! Well Life has been horrifyingly busy but I managed to bang out this ten pager! Full of dialogue and action, hints of what's to come with the war!!! With Lincoln's presidency!! There's going to be a lot of flash backs in the coming chapters of their time in Italy since I never really got into it. BUT they're home! Yay! A little bit of everyone is in this chapter so ENJOY LEAVE COMMENTS! Tell me what you think! And i'll try to update again in the very near future

She had never been so comfortable to step through a threshold and immediately say that it felt like home, her whole embodiment felt like it had lived there her whole life- the house in Italy, more than any other place had attracted her in a way no other place had. Yet here she was three months later on the Brisk november afternoon, laying four months pregnant in a bath with her husband at home in Virginia. Vacation was over as of that morning and the time to rest happened to be just that moment. His arms were wrapped tight around her from under the breast and his face was pressed into her sweet shoulder, kissing small kisses to the skin. Lydia tilts her head and rests it on a broad shoulder. 

“The ball is tonight?” she asks softly.

“Indeed it is,” he mumbles back. “Dinner and dancing and a cake worth your father's largesse probably.”

“Oh probably. I would prefer not to go,” she decides.

“There’s not much an option my love.” 

Lydia gives a solemn pout and he kisses the cheek that reddens. She threads a hand through the hair on the back of his hand and his lips are pressing closer to her own, plump and red and slightly chapped. He presses another kiss closer, and then another before landing his lips on her own, teeth biting down with a predatorial graze before tugging at the bottom of her lip, and her breath sighs in a labored passion. He resigns the action with a gentle soothing tongue over the lip he bit and a soft kiss, Lydia’s body tensing and untensing beneath him. Wanting and yet trying to remain relaxed. He knows the feeling of her body by muscle memory, it’s as if they were two halves of a whole. He thinks anywhere she is, he’s home.

Lydia closes her eyes and pretends that they’re still under the candle lit, ground sunken bath in Italy, with the rushing warm water and the sweet vinyard air. She can still vividly recall their every moment there, whether they were reading or dancing or hosting or sharing a meal or having sex (in any given location really). She sinks into the hold of his arms and wraps her arms around his bare sides in the water. “Perhaps we don’t have to go,” she says. “I am pregnant after all.”

“Pregnancy is no reason for absence, we both know that. Besides, everybody will want to see you. They’ll want to talk to you, they’ll want to know if the baby is okay. People will worry and people will talk if you’re not there.”

“I just want to lay in bed with you the rest of the day and night. We just got home, do we have to go?”

“I s’pose it’s poorly planned but it must be done.”

Lydia sighs, even as he places a pliant kiss to the top of her head, a wet hand on her smooth jaw. She nuzzles her nose into the clean skin of his neck and kisses the skin softly before resting her head against the side of his neck. 

“It’ll be fine, my dearest.”

“Perhaps it will be. Perhaps it won’t.” 

“Don’t be so pessimistic, You’ll have a wonderful time. Surely Allison will be downstairs to greet you.”

“The sooner the evening ends, the sooner I can rely on being a happy woman again. Then you continue that ravishing kissing of yours.”

Stiles laughs softly, a hand softly caressing the skin of her thigh, kissing the top of her head. “It’s nothing short of tender, I don’t see what’s so ravishing.”

“Everything you do is rather ravishing Mr. Stilinski.”

“Charming,” he mutters sarcastically, nose pressing to the hair atop her head, his hands caressing her delicate skin under the water, one holding her thigh and the other caressing the small round of her rather flat belly. He wonders if it’s normally for her to be this thin at four months along, and he wonders if she’s not just gained weight. Though the word from other women and friends of Lydia were that she were certainly carrying child, the way that she acted, the new tenderness of her breasts, the rounding of her stomach not a normal weight gain, or at least that’s what they said. 

‘It looks different’ he recalls Bethany telling Lydia upon greeting them on the docks. (Claudia of course, was perplexed at their friendship with the poor woman and her husband. And she was even more perplexed at her son’s attachment to his friendship with the woman’s husband. Stiles didn’t invite people to balls or for drinks when there was none to be had-)

A knock sounds at the door and Lydia’s head turns to look over as if they’d been caught in deadly sin, even if married, and even if just holding each other. She looks wide eyed and surprised, sinking to cover her body as Brett enters the room with towels. “We received a telegram from your friends saying they should be arriving in short time. Your mother says it’s due proper that you make yourselves… worthy. Or something like that.”

“You sound grim,” Stiles notes.

“I’m exhausted and working a party.”

“Aren’t we all?”

Brett shrugs and so does Lydia. Brett offers Lydia her soft blue bath robe, Stiles helping Lydia stand and Lydia easily curls into it. “Tell Madam Claudia I can’t go, I’m awfully tired.”

“Don’t tell her that, she’s gonna send you five doctors and a half wit to see why you’re tired,” Stiles says. “Besides, what am I to do at a party when I have nobody to dance with?’

“It’s only proper that we dance once,” she tells him, watching Brett wrap him in a robe. “Is miss Blake waiting in my dressing room?”

“She is,” Brett assures. 

Lydia nods and pads off with soft, slow steps to her room, hair trailing behind her in a flurry. Brett and Stiles goes to Stiles own room where he is dressed and prepared. The conversation is minimal and the exhaustion is evident in both men’s eyes and body. Stiles was in a sleek grey tux with a clean shave, hair slicked back and silver epaulets to match. He meets Lydia down in the atrium, turning when he hears her heels moving down the steps. His sister and his mother were upstairs getting dressed, his brothers were with his grandparents in the garden, his father was out of sight, out of mind, and the world went clear as Lydia approached him in her wedding gown, the pearls still shimmering in a way that they had before, the bodice still hugging her perfectly, the glow she had the day he proposed her his wife shown brighter than before. 

He realizes now more than ever in the months since marriage, much has changed. But he doesn’t voice a word, just steps forward to help her down the steps and kiss her gloved fingertips. She smiles warmly and takes his arm. “Shall we go wait in the drawing room? We can have a few drinks drawn up as we wait.”

“Of course,” Stiles agrees, following behind her absentmindedly, her dressing swaying at her feet. They reach the drawing room where Boyd is setting up the area and cleaning up with other servants. 

“You’re back then?” He announces as he sees the two, with the glimpse of a smile on an otherwise stern face.

“Only in physicality,” Lydia says.

“I remember the first time I went there too. I was ten. I never wanted to return home,” Boyd tells Lydia. “It’s a beautiful place.”

“One day I’ll make it your home.” 

“Is that a promise M’lady?”

Lydia nods. “It is. We’re moving there,” she decides. Stiles laughs.

“When did you make that decision?”

“The moment I stepped in there,” She said. 

“You wouldn’t believe how the world has turned,” Boyd said.

“What have I missed?”

“Lincoln is running for president.”

“What are his views on slavery?”

“He skirts it at every moment that he gets. Sumner was beaten almost to death by cane-”

“Good lord.”

“Indeed,” Boyd agrees.

“By who?” Lydia inquires.

“Preston Brooks,” Boyd fills in. Stiles nods with fascination. 

“How is Lincoln doing?” he asks.

“Why do you know him personally?” Boyd inserts with zeal and Stiles laughs.

“No but if you recall a couple years back in 58 I had went to see him speak in Illinois. He was really quite riveting and he was smart. Who else do we expect to be running this year?”

“A man by the name of Breckinridge and another man named John Bell, also a Mr. Douglas and a Mr. Johnson. The other list of men, are men I don’t remember the names of.”

“Do they seem to be of any good, any of them?”

“Well they’ve yet to really release any press but I can already tell you that most of those men don’t seem very qualified.”

“Nobody is ever really qualified. Though… Well it strikes me funny that a man like Lincoln is running for president.”

“A man like him? What’s the matter with him?” Lydia asks. 

“Nothing's the matter with him, but he’s very… just his opinions strike me different. I think if he runs far enough, he’d get my electoral vote. What say you we go out to the speeches for all the candidates, Lydia? Would you like that?”

“You’ve better luck taking Theo, I’ll say that.”

“Alright then, I’ll take Theo.” 

Stiles looks sad a moment and Boyd seems to know what’s going on.

“Mr. A Stoker had taken the matters into his hands with Lord Argent. Theo and his mother are well… I can’t say where they are but they’ve been removed from the house until matters even out. I’d suspect they were invited.”

“Not over mother’s dead body but I should hope that you or T’any had the nerve to sneak an invite for them anyways.”

“Surely…I think ” Boyd nods and he glances around, eyes landing on a particular blonde just outside the door, the other servants go to shut it. “Can we get you anything? The tea is all set,” Boyd assures.

“What did you want Lydia? Anything specific?”

Lydia looks thoughtful. “Was that a new maid?” she asks, looking to the shut doors. “Who was that woman just outside before you shut them?”

“Nobody of importance, she’s just a fill in-”

“For who?”

“What would you like to drink?”

“What’s the problem?” Stiles asks.

“Nothing. Tonight you really ought’a to rest and be merry. There’s no reason to cast your spirits Stiles.”

“Vernon Boyd you ought’t’a tell me what in the name of hell is-”

“You’ll find out in due time. It’s best we drop it. You are as a brother could be to me and I say it in your own good, tonight it’s best you stay pleasant.”

Stiles eyes narrow slightly, glancing to the door before deciding to drop the matter. “Tea,” Stiles says suddenly with a meek tone. “Tea with cream and sugar, and Lydia likes hers plane with two lumps.”

“Yes sir,” he says, moving to do as told. The whole room has their eyes watching him and Lydia is curious as to what is going on. Stiles has a gut feeling that come tomorrow afternoon, he won’t be on good terms with his father again. Something pulls at him that if there is a woman in that house that Boyd doesn’t want him to see, then there is something going on that nobody was really supposed to know about. 

Boyd is breaking into a nervous sweat, something seemed dangerously sharp to the edge of his tone all of a sudden, but he keeps his hand steady as he makes two cups of tea and hands it to the couple whispering softly on the couches. Stiles accepts with a gracing smile.

“Does mother know?”

“No she doesn’t.”

“Keep it that way.”

  
  


Allison has her dress pooling over her arms, trying to keep it in place as lips trail down the nape of her neck, a small huff of laughter leaves her parted lips as a hand ghosts up her stomach. “You said we’d be quick, and you’re moving oh so very slow,” she says with the hint of a moan at the end of her phrase.

“I like to take my time with you,” Scott decides and her cheeks, against her own will, flush red.

“We don’t have time to take time. We’re in quite the rush for the ball.”

“Please… there’s no reason to go.”

“We must announce our engagement. Stiles would be ever pleased.”

“And I would be ever graced, publically announced your future husband.”

“It’s like a dream come true, I never thought I’d hear it with my own ears. Or see you so close to acceptance in my life, for total and utter goodness with my own eyes. My heart belongs to you and my body is yours to take and my soul is yours to hold and my heart is yours to sacrifice.”

“And should I ever break that heart, your knife is my fleshes friend and your smile should be my deceitful enemy- if I’d ever hurt you, I have no place to see it again.”

You’re so entirely right. You know better than any man before you or after you.”

“And you’re incomparable woman. Stronger than most.”

“And stubborn too.” 

“How could I forget?” Scott asks, with a warm teasing to his tone, lips ghosting over the shell of her ear and she sighs.

“My dearest and most passionate love, make yourself of good use and sheathe your sword to me or I shall die of a sweet bliss unheard of before.”

Scott laughs in amusement at his fiance’s desperation, tilting her head up for a taste of her lips, sweet and succulent to the touch, pressing with a hesitation that must be nervousness, the fear of being caught was always so present. Yet Allison found thrill where her lover found hesitation. 

“Be quick,” she whispers.

“On the fly is rather dirty.”

“And I like dirty,” she tells him.

Scott has a dark sort of smile and she know she has him hooked, right where she wants him in a matter of seconds and that’s pressed deep between her thighs. 

 

If it’s a matter of time, Elizabeth is starting to think she doesn’t have it. There is no regaining the loss she bares inside of her own soul, yet the gap that seems to be filled every time she looks to her future husband, Isaac Lahey. He’s a sweet man, with the most beautiful eyes, the most gentle of hands, the most broken of souls. She thinks that she ought’a be lucky and she is. Yet going to see Stiles, with a Lydia that has been rumored pregnant is clutching at the seams of her heart with earnest, trying to pull her from the healing she’d done. She had loved Stiles, her hopes had dwindled high to live the life that Lydia now lives. She can still recall the dinner that they had before the marriage and how Lydia expressed her fears of Stiles leaving her for Elizabeth, Elizabeth recalls a want and feeling of victory arise in her chest as she had falsely assured her that Stiles was madly in love with her.

That day felt like it was years ago, albeit  _ a _ year ago. She thinks that it’s rather up on it’s toes now, and the air on the arms of the country stand on ends. The fear in her grows daily and tonight, facing the man she had considered her one true love, dressed in a gown that was one of her best, she thought she might collapse. Her time was limited and it was quickly running out. In fact, it might be over. 

“Elizabeth! Are you ready?” Her father calls and her maid finishes her hair, pulling it to her right side, exposing her left shoulder. Elizabeth breathes in deeply before exhaling.

“Don’t fear none,” her maid whispers and Elizabeth nods. 

“Coming daddy!”

 

Entering the ballroom, an array of candles light the room with a warm, yellow glow. Bethany and her husband were making their way down the steps into the ballroom, Stiles no where to be seen in the small crowd of the guests who’ve arrived, but Lydia was happily speaking away to a group of women, sat in a chair. 

“Lydia my dearest!” Bethany chimes and Lydia is to her feet instantly, pausing her conversation to go and hug the woman.

“Bethany! My dearest Bethany. Where have you, to be so late?”

“There was a bit of set back but here we are.”

“Oh so very lovely. Have you spoken to dearest Olive lately?”

“Oh yes, poor dear is rather sickly with fear. Said last week a man was shot in the corridor of her village.”

“Oh dear, is it true then?”

“Is what true?”

“The story.”

“Oh yes. It was in all the papers. But it’s nothing you should fear. How was your trip home?”

“Certainly a bit sad. I miss Italy so very much. If I had the chance, I’d make it my home. Where is Alberto?”

“Talking with the men, I presume. And Stiles? I couldn’t seem to spot him.”

“Oh he’s making means with a good friend of his. There’s been some trouble, I’d suppose,” Lydia says. “But nothing to fear, they’ll be in soon.”

“All is well then?”

Lydia nods, and Bethany smiles at her admiringly, the other women looking to Bethany with a perplexity.

 

Theo is shaking a bit, sat on the porch chair. “I don’t know what to do. How long before he decides to come to the apartment?”

“Who’s housing you there?”

“I’ve been working for Darcy and taking as many cases as possible. Your father has been help.”

“Well it’s good to hear he’s done some good in the world.”

“He’s not a bad man Stiles.”

“He’s nothing that I can complain about it. You on the other hand, you’ve got all the complaints in the world. And you deserve it.” 

“I don’t deserve much.”

“You deserve it all and more. I can attest to that. I can attest to your strength.”

“And what about you?”

“I’ve suffered none yet.”

“But you’ve suffered all as well.”

“Perhaps I have… and but I’ve yet to bare a horrendous burden.”

“Yet. In due time, this country will fall faster than the Spanish Golden Age.”

“And you and I can just leave.”

Theo laughs a bit bitterly before shrugging insecurely. “It’s always a choice to leave, it’s really a matter of wanting to leave.”

“Change has always been hard.”

“Change is always the most forceful factor of earth and yet…”

“We never want to change.”

“Truly.”

“People are arriving,” Stiles says.

“You look exhausted.”

“I feel like death has struck me to it’s core. I’m neither conscious nor awake.”

“Well wake up my boy, your mother won’t be pleased if you don’t wake up now, she’ll whip ya.”

“Poor mummy is much too tired. I’d ought’a leave her be for the winning. Is that the argent carriage? Allison must be here and- Oo who does that really nice one belong to? I’ve never seen it before.”

“Probably Duke of Gull, he’s visiting. He’s good friends with your grandfather.”

“Is he? How do you know?” 

“Just the word around the block.”

“Oh! I must tell you the funniest yet most grotesque thing to ever happen to me over the honeymoon-”

“Which is?” 

“So we arrived in France and we go to this bathhouse and I’m absolutely positive the man who runs it is  making love with my grandmother?”

“As in… fathers mother?”

“Mmmhm.”

“ _ Ew  _ why would he do that?”

“Beats me but he was a total perv.”

Theo laughs at that. “o’Course he was.”

“He spoke too fondly of her, those are things I never wanted to know. Besides, don’t you think it’s all messed up down there because she’s old?”

“Do penises shrivel up when we’re old?”

“Beats me. I’ve never seen an old man’s luggage. Have you?”

“Well no but I’ve seen some nice ones.”

Stiles scoffs. “I’ll take your word on it. Hey sleep with Brett and tell me how that goes.”

“Why?”

“Lydia wants to try an orgy sort of thing- like with him. I guess I wouldn’t want him in bed if he weren’t good at it.”

“Oh and you’re a  _ god  _ aren’t you? Don’t be picky.”

“You’re choosy yourself, honey.”

“Bless your heart, what would you know about my choosiness in men?”

“Because I know about your choosiness in everything else. No way you just let somebody penetrate you up the arse without being choosy.”

“Mmm I might.”

“You’re not that much of a whore I’d presume. Whatever happened to that Bryant boy?”

“Corey? Haven’t spoken to him since father had me outt’d.”

“Ay is that so?”

Theo nods. “Besides he was sleepin’ with the slave.”

“What slave?”

“Beats me to hell what his name was, he was just sleepin with him. Was a young thing like him. If you ask me, men like that ought’a not be reckon’d with.”

“Why, wouldn’t sleep with a handsome black man if he stood before you in all of god’s might? They’re stronger than hell. If  _ I  _ were a homosexual, I’d jump a black man.”

Theo snorts at that. “I never said I wouldn’t but it’d get me killed upon the fact I’m already a dead man for being a homosexual.”

“Sure, sure. A secret's a secret.”

“They don’t trust us.”

“I don’t trust  _ you.  _ Or I wouldn’t if I didn’t know you anyhow. You don’t think Peter will show?”

“If he does, give me the right to stand with a gun in my mouth.”

“Fuck the gun in your mouth, put it in his. Be sensual about it too.”

“You’re disgusting. Last thing I want is a sexual innuendo with him. Keep the gun out of his mouth and stick it to the sticking place, shoot the beast through the next.”

“Aha, then he’s dead for sure!” Stiles whispers, laughing. “Come on now, Theo, we ought’a go in before they send the wild hunt after us.”

Theo nods, standing up from his chair and following Stiles to the balcony door where they’re entering into the large ballroom. Lydia is still sat in her chair, bethany beside her now. The room is more full and definitely louder. The smell of a meal wafts in from the kitchens and Stiles has never wanted to bite into sweet rolls of dough with butter so bad before. 

“I”m starving,” he declares.

“That so?” Theo asks. “Haven’t you eaten?”

“No, not since this morning. We’ve been busy being pampered.”

Theo nods and Stiles moves to go stand behind Lydia, his hands resting on her shoulders. She looks up, a strand of her hair gracefully falling over her eyes and she smiles.

“Well hello there. What brings me such a lovely visitor?” She asks before lookign to see Theo. “And an even lovelier companion?”

“He missed you,” Theo decides. “A whole eight months with you all alone and he decided he just can’t get enough.”

“I’m quite the addicting substance.”

“Quite,” Stiles agrees. “Have y’all seen odette or momma? I do miss them so. I ought’a go speak ot them.”

“Go on ahead, the party won’t miss you much,” she says. “Your grandfather is over there with your father. Nana is probably with momma.”

“Is your mother here?”

“Not that i know of.”

“The argents should be making their way in. With a duke supposedly.”

“A duke? Of where?”

“Gull. According to Theo.”

“You’ll see,” Theo assures softly. “Now go, I’ll buddy up with some of the other men.”

Stiles nods and Theo smiles. There’s an unspoken word of meeting again once they’ve grown uncomfortable with the people that they’re sure to face. Even when tired and worn out, they still found the energy to sit beside the other. Though now, it was the time to be alive and awake, sweeping his way across the ballroom, he resides beside Claudia, pulling his mother into a hug by the waist and kissing her head.

“Well there’s my son. I almost forgot you came home.”

“How kind of you mother. First you wear me out to my bones upon arrival then you forget I’ve arrived at all.”

“You’ve been awfully quiet.”

“Lydia and I have been awfully exhausted. Bathing is quite the exercise.”

“Oh hush up,” Nana bites. “If people hear you they’ll think you’ve no manners.”

“What? We were just washing down. Must you think the least of us?” 

“No but others will. We have an important guest. Behave yourself, you’re no child anymore.”

His mother nods. “The Duke of Gull is here,” Claudia confirms. 

“Oh wonderful. SO are the Argents. They’re important in my books.”

“Yeah but not in mine,” Nana says. “Be impressive. Aight? Y’all better not screw up or I’ll have T’any broil you for dinner.”

“Understood,” Stiles mumbles and Claudia shrugs.

  
  


Give or take a few hours, the party lives and thrives but Stiles can’t seem to do much more than sip champagne with Lydia under his arm and Theo on the other side of him flirting away with some handsome young man who Stiles couldn’t be bothered to know the name of. Lydia is half asleep on his arm and he has to nudge her awake.

“Won’t you let me sleep?”

“I can’t my dearest love, then it’d look bad on our part. Care to dance?”

“No I’d rather not. Go dance with somebody else,” She says. “I’ll stay here.”

Stiles nods and he spots Elizabeth, all alone a few tables away. Isaac seemed to be having the best of times with some men at a cards table. He figured it wouldn’t hurt to amuse her. “You wouldn’t mind if I talked to Elizabeth, would you?”

“Not at all. Go dance with her. I’ll go sit with Bethany and the other ladies.”

“Yes of course.” 

Stiles stands and takes slow steps to where Elizabeth is, he can’t help but think that she just looks so beautiful but part of him is comparing her features to Lydia and he has the urge to look back at her and convince her to come dance with him instead, but he spares his tired wife the feat. Approaching Elizabeth, he finally stops beside her. “Elizabeth,” he says softly. “You’ve’n’t spoken to me all night. What have you?”

Elizabeth looks up with bright blue eyes at him, her soft brown curls falling loose around her, some hair pinned back still. “I s’pose my tongue fell shy… Why are you here when your wife awaits you?”

“Am I not allowed a fair dance with a close friend?”

She smiles softly, though her heart is bitter with jealousy. She was never truly just a friend, unless she were and he was only choosing out of matter over mind. A prosperous marriage, money put in his pocket. “Do you care to dance Elizabeth?” he asks, breaking her silence.

“Of course I do…” She says, standing to offer her hand and and he takes it, she thinks back to the night where Lydia had danced with that other man and he had surely been watching her even if she had been the one he was holding so intimately. Now she thinks that he must be more than intimate with Lydia who was stuck beside him the whole of the evening, never once leaving his side or denying a dance with him or any other. 

They’re getting into position and he’s slipping into a dance with her. He smiles: she thinks her heart might explode. She’s spun and following his steps. Her hand is in his, before they’re parting. Then stepping back together. Elizabeth is watching him so intently, his eyes seem to meet every other eye but hers, until finally they do and he smiles.

 

Lydia liked it least of all, to be talking only to look over and see their eyes meet, her husband smiling at the girl in his arms. Yet it seems like a vague smile. He’s just having fun, she  _ told  _ him to go have fun, to dance with Elizabeth. But the way Elizabeth looks at him has her feeling stirred, something unkind inside and she places a hand to her belly, taking comfort in the fact Stiles had already chosen her, already left his mark of assurance on her, that the girl he was smiling at meant nothing. Though she can’t seem to stop herself from getting up to intercept the next dance. Before Karen can reach him a second time, Lydia takes her husband into her own hands, but Karen has other plans. 

“Lydia don’t you want to dance love?”

“Who me?”

“Yes you! C’mon, I’ll be the man that leads you on.”

“And who will dance with poor Stiles?”

“Me of course,” Scott cuts you. “I’ll be the man that leads him on,” he mocks Karen and the group laugh, Stiles taking Scott’s hand.

“Please, whisk me away!” Stiles says dreamily, laughing after. “I want to be as charmed as Allison.”

“That’s all his sex appeal talking to her,” Karen says and they all laugh.

Allison is waltzing with Isaac, the group starting their own tempo. Scott and Stiles stumbling over each other, trying to follow. The girls were twirling and laughing. Karen going to hold her stomach to assure that she hasn’t hurt Lydia, and Lydia moves her hand to her shoulder to lead her into a dance of their own. Stiles ends up holding Scott’s waist and letting them simply sway. 

“I hope you know I’m good as sleeping on your shoulder now.”

“Oh is that so?”

“Absolutely so.” 

Scott doesn’t seem to mind, only pulling him closer. Lydia turns to see them with happy eyes, she and Karen go over to tug them apart, Allison making her way over. “My Fiancee please?” she requests.

“Mmm no thank you. He makes a comfortable pillow.”

“Is that so?”

“Mmhm. No wonder you’re so fond of sleeping with him,” Stiles jokes and Allison’s cheeks pinken, watching him with a deadly stare. 

“You ought’a give me back before you drop dead,” Scott whispers and Stiles laughs, pushing him away to Allison who takes his hand, Scott kissing her head with care. Stiles pulls Lydia into his arms.

“Can we leave yet?”Lydia asks.

“We can’t leave until the duke leaves,” Stiles tells her, arms wrapped around her waist, swaying with her carefully, Lydia leaning her head back until it’s resting on his shoulder. 

“Where is the duke?”

“The man in the pompous red coat with the obnoxious gold glitter.”

She glances around. “Burly with the nice looking wife?”

“Wife? She’s an overly paid mistress. I say twenty for every thrust he can give her before giving out. And then fifteen more for every orgasm.”

“That’s a specific wager. Where do you think she’s from?”

“Whorehouse in London.”

“How do you know?”

“You can tell. They’re a specific brand of Lady.”

“Women are not Brands.”

“Perhaps, but those women are apart of companies.”

“Mmm doesn’t make them brands. If I was one, would you brand me?”

“You are branded. You’re my wife, don’t mistake it.”

“That’s possessive.”

“Because you’re mine to possess. Mine to take care of and love for and hold for and cherish. You’re my wife.”

“Then you’re my husband. Mine to care for and love for and cherish. Don’t mistake it. Don’t even think about looking at another woman or promising another woman that.”

“Wouldn’t dare dream the day I found a woman worth it. There should never be one. You’re the only one I’d ever see until my judgement day arrives.”

“Good. Remember that.”

“I’d never forget you my love.”

“And I you.” 


	63. Chapter 57

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles goes to see Stoker, Lydia misses Stiles, John has a dirty secret and Odette decides it's time to defend herself

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Please try to leave comments! I really REALLY appreciate them. It doesn't have to be long, but seeing your feedback or even just "I love it" makes my day so much better!   
> Also I started a new fic called Holy Roman King, and if you like this fic you'll definitely love that one!!! They're similar in the concept of they don't take place in the canon universe, they're different every other way. HRK is just way more intense, Stydia is already a thing in the beginning!!! They're married and have a baby!!! Definitely recommend you check it out.   
> Thank you so much for reading and please don't forget to comment!

“Oh Mr. Stoker! You missed the party last night. You should've been there- as exhausting as it was it was  _ marvelous. _ ”

  “Jesus christ. Whose holy idea was it to send ya off, you're speaking like an aristocrat straight outta England. You oughta keep that head of yours out of the books.”

“I like books,” Stiles says, sitting on the musty arm chair in the corner of the room.

“Yeah a little too much. Young men are to be serious and fit, not dreaming in the clouds. Anywho, how was it? I heard the fairest was pregnant, is it so?”

“We suspect, but perhaps it’s too soon to tell.”

Stoker nods, sitting beside him on the piano bench. “Well out with it, what’s gone on, other than whatever ravaging you did, I’m far too old for those kind of details.”

Stiles laughs softly, glancing up and the light streaming from the window’s behind him seem to filter through to shine a golden light in his eyes. For just a moment, the boy seems ethereal in a world of pale wooden walls and old furniture. “There was an accident on the boat and I surveyed the Case for a while, though Lydia wasn’t too pleased. Though after that we stayed in this lovely cottage that ran at the top of the hills, and behind us were a prairie for miles. There were flowers and grass so green and so tall, you’d believe it to be the garden of Eden.”

“I never had an experience like  _ that  _ in France.”

“then perhaps you were looking at all the wrong places, Mr. Stoker.”

“Tell me more.”

“There were trees… these beautiful trees. They were short trees, they don’t grow to be like the oaks we have. At least not those, and they budded with flowers and fruits. And fountains in the center of the village that gushed Fresh Water free to anybody that passed it. It always made the wind fresher, and the air was always thick with the scent of breads and pastries. They were old buildings though, made of thick stones and some crumbling on the sides. Nobody ever made the amends to their crumblings buildings, just let them fall.”

“Life is a bit slower there, nobody rushes to the aid of a toppling tower, I wouldn’t either. Let it crumble, then build it again.”

“But why let it crumble when you could save the tower before it falls?”

“The same reason why we send men off to war. Why start a war when you can spare the men?”

“Because they want the war to happen.”

“Exactly. They want the building to crumble, and one day they’ll patch up that stone but now, it seems lovely and romantic and it’s falling because of age. But soon it’ll be new and lovely.”

“Like all things are after presumptuous death.”

“All things that reach heaven. Ugly people end up ugly forever.”

Stiles nods. “But doing ugly things doesn’t mean you’ll always end up in hell, right?”

“God forgives the holy. Why, what have you done?”

“Nothing… Nothing, I was just wondering. S’pose I still fear I’ll rot in a hellfires decay for the rest of eternity. Perhaps I’m afraid that maybe it’s all for naught and no matter my repentance I still lay on the deeds that undid me.”

“What’s bound you?”

“Nothing.”

“It can’t be nothing if you’re presuming hell.”

“Life presumes hell. Drinking presumes hell. Sex presumes hell. It’s all bound in the knots of hell.”

“Only in excess and sex after marriage is a legal affair. It’s just unsociable talk. Unless hushed between books with friends.” 

“Maybe…”

“What have you done?”

“I’ve done it years ago, but I had an affair with one of the poorer girls when I was much younger than now, assuming there to be a potential for it and she said there was nothing and it was over. Yet it still followed me, all that guilt and all those things that happened between us- I felt cornered, like I had done something so shameful and had no place to go. The boys at school would talk about it and I’d get sick, because I wasn’t supposed to be like those boys, we weren’t the  _ same  _ by any means-”

“And you were mistaken that one time. Life doesn’t follow you around with the flaw that bites. So you did something when you were too young and too foolish, you know better now. Don’t be so hard on yourself, death may visit every man but it only hurts until the maker touches you and says ‘finally, you may be’ and in you shall pass through to the gardens of Eden with rivers of Wine and houses of Brick Gold.”

Stiles nods, leaning against the chair. His head rests on his arm which rests on the arm of the couch. He’s maybe a little too comfortable but Stoker doesn’t correct his posture. Stiles eyes trail outside the window. “The Duke of somewhere out of nowhere was over last night. He was a real hoot, even brought a mistress with him.”

“A mistress huh?”

“Yeah she was dressed in the finest beads he could find her.”

“What did he look like?”

“An ass on it’s way out of Spain.”

Stoker laughs and shakes his head. “I’ve got some cases waiting for you.”

“Is that so?”

“Yeah, they’re downstairs in the files.”

“Well how about today we open up the windows and let some fresh air in, and maybe clean up a bit,” Stiles offers, knowing well enough that stoker was rarely checked up on and that had Stiles not been working here, he might have passed and gone and nobody would have known. Stiles looks to Stoker and smiles sadly. Maybe one day Stoker would pass, and Stiles knows that he would be devastated, but he allows for moment to settle in. Stoker was here now and that’s all Stiles could be thankful for. 

“Don’t worry for me,” Stoker says, smiling. “You’re young, you’re a father soon… You ought’a to see what lies in the light not what wades in the dark.”

“You’re light and even more so to me,” Stiles says. “To all of us. Now let’s get the windows open.” 

 

Lydia rested against the couch, curling a shawl around her shoulders. It was the shawl Stiles had bought her in Italy. She remembers being at home with Mary, Stiles out with Evans, and coming home. He had been so excited, pulled her into his arms for the sweetest kiss before announcing ‘I’d got you a present’ and she had looked at him so excitedly. Never expecting what it was, and out he pulls out this beautiful white shawl, with little flowers designing everything except the golden edges and the center, which had a large bouquet in it. He had took it from this small bag and draped it around her shoulders, the material thick and warm, easy for the brisk september air that had been settling over them. 

She wraps it tighter and sniffs at the material, the smell of the italian home still lingering. It makes her feel warm inside, her eyes once more focusing on the book in her hands. Rereading Count of Monte Cristo, she decides that the hours could not pass slower. Stiles might have just left but she just wanted him to be home, and home at any possible moment. It would have made her day brighter for him to stay home, but she knew he felt the duty to go visit Stoker, it was the least he could do. 

Lydia wishes she went with him, but Stiles insisted it was too cold. So Charolette comes into the library with a tray of breakfast in her hands. “I got you a whole lot of things. Corn Bread, some jam, eggs- scrambled how ya like em, Madam- and a big cup of tea.”

“Oh you’ve outdone yourself,” Lydia mumbles. “Do you like this shawl? Stiles got it for me in Italy… It’s just so lovely.”

“Oh it is beautiful.”

“I got you something.”

“Y-ya did? What for, Madame?”

“For all your hard work but since yesterday, all I’ve done is get swept into preparation. Tell you what, you come back and I’ll give it to you personally.”

“There’s no need Madame.”

“Of course there is. There’s nothing to be afraid of Charolette,” Lydia cooes. 

“Yes Madame…. Has Stiles found out about Madelyn yet?”

“Who’s Madelyn?”

“I best not say then… It’s… well you’ll find out in due time.”

  
  


In due time indeed, for as the sun still rose from it’s peak between the trees, John was still in his room with a very underdressed Madelyn. The younger woman’s displayed as his lips pressed to her neck. Of course, to her, there was no place in the world she preferred. And while John knew it to be wrong, he couldn’t help the thrill of it, of the rush it gave him to sleep with this other woman when his wife was unknowing. How unbecoming yet how becoming it was. 

And perhaps there was no love for her, but was the love for Claudia truly their either? He didn’t feel what was there before as there was now. He didn’t feel what he had with Claudia before to still be present. He’d resigned on their love, and here was Madelyn, so desperate for his contact and his affection- who is he to deny that to her? 

Their lips met in a kiss and suddenly he’s boxing her in and things are a little too close. The remorse doesn’t rest easy on him, in fact, it surpasses him. All he feels, and all he knows is Madelyn, who is slipped from her clothes and bare. She was beautiful and his affection for her was great. He wants to pride in the idea that her child was his, the other part wonders how long it’ll take Claudia to figure out, and how much sooner it’ll take her to string him up on one of the trees behind the house.

“You’re thinking, there’s no reason for thinking when we’re so close to intimacy,” Madelyn whispers and he gives a sly smile. It made him feel alive to be with somebody like this again, to have what he once did. To act the way that young men did- the way that his own  _ son  _ clearly was with the girl he married. 

“I was just thinking of you,” he replies.

“Charmed, truly,” she whispers.

  
  


Odette on the other hand was far from charmed, it was the minute and a half of seeing her father converse with the woman in the hallway and later seeing the child with her brothers that she knew. It made her wonder if her brother knew, and then she concludes that he must not. He’s been primarily acquainted all morning, a gentle smile gracing his features. And why should she ruin her beautiful older brothers happiness? So long had it been since she last saw him smile so.

She sits at breakfast with the nanny, her younger brothers, and grandparents, eyes set on her plate. Stabbing at a strawberry, she takes the skewed fruit and slides it past her lips, a menacing look set in her eyes. The last thing she needed was her mother killing her father in cold blood, she figured it was time she woman up and take matters into her own hands, the way that Allison had always taught her and Eliza Argent. 

Now was not the time to rely on Stiles but rather, to rely on herself. If things were going to get fixed, she would have to fix them. And if she were to marry, she would marry for love over advantage. She was refusing to end up the widow that cried under husband’s lack of remorse, as he slept with the maid behind her back. She decides that now, more than ever, she had to hold herself up. That Stiles had more priorities, and her mother needed protecting, her brothers needed protecting. She needed to step up, and take control.

Odette finally decides she would have Allison teach her how to defend herself, how to shoot guns and use weapons and fight. How to be brutal, not just physically but verbally. To be as cruel as Allison and Stiles were. She was no longer the innocent flower, and girls who are woman must know how to handle the knives that come with it. 

“Odette darling, what’s the matter?” Nana asks and Odette looks up with a faint surprise before smiling brightly, in the most realistic matter, even if it was fake. 

“Nothing, I was just thinking about how much I’ll miss your home in Kentucky is all.” 

“Oh, don’t be so daft. Your mother needs you.”

“Surely she does. And the boys missed the farm, didn’t’ch’a?”

“We did! We did!” Jack calls, grinning from the other end of the table, and Odette smiles and nods, taking a much kinder bite from her plate this time. 


	64. Chapter 58

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Theo is missing from the party

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back (and better/worse??) than ever!!!  
> I plan on updating regularly until I finish the story, this chapter is really short BUT i plan on posting the next one within the next few hours hopefully, but I also have to finish a chemistry take home test, so we'll see how this plays out tbh  
> Also you guys know how much I love your comments, so please, even though it's short, don't forget to comment!

Dinners with friends were becoming a normal occurrence in the life of Lydia and Stiles Stilinski, attending what was a ‘casual’ dinner with a horrible array of alcohol. Bitter, sour, not quite right. And not that Stiles could help it when he made a face that he soon covered up with a cough. Lydia watching amused across the table and Scott scoffing beside him. 

“Is everything alright, Mister Stilinski?” The hostess asks. 

“Everything is just fine, I just have had the slightest cough and really- I should  _ not  _ be drinking alcohol,” he excuses, handing the cup back, the dissatisfying remnant of the drink remaining in his mouth. “Perhaps a thick sort of juice would do?” He asks of the servant, and the young, black man nods before rushing to get him another cup under the eyes of his ‘owners.’ 

“Oh you should have wrote earlier, Lydia!” The hostess scolds. 

“Really it’s nothing, it’s much better now,” Stiles cuts in.

“Oh yes! I feared he’d hack up a lung a few days ago,” Lydia chimes in, playing along with Stiles trick. She was since avoiding her own glass of wine, just setting it aside. 

“Oh my, then it really is much better!” The hostess agrees, seeming quite afraid (As if he’d really hack up a lung on her table.)

“Just so, you mustn’t fear really. Just the alcohol makes my throat quite scratchy and well, it’s really just not good for me-”

“Oh heavens no, I wouldn’t expect you to be drinking in such a _ fragile _ state.”

Lydia and Stiles nod together, proceeding to go at the dinner, (which was only on par, T’any would probably be pleased to know) and the Creamed Salmon was only half par, the salads were a little warm, the tomatoes weren’t quite ripe and Stiles found the pasta to be kind of hard, chewy almost. Not fully cooked, he’d take. A disastrous dinner really and the after party was no better- in which Theo should have been there but was nowhere to be found. 

Lydia walking over some time in the night’s course and dragging him outside (to his relief really). “What gives me the pleasure of seeing my wife?”

“Don’t you care to look slightly amused? I’d like to be invited back at least once, don’t ruin this.”

“It’d be ruined for them, not for us. I’m the trend setter, remember? Last month we went to the Brazil’s household and when her idiot husband spilled his drink on you that was it. I don’t think anybody has really gone to one of their parties since. They’re next on the list if you ask me, this night has been the  _ worst.” _

“Not that bad. And what’s this about your coughing?” She jokes.

“Did you have the alcohol? Jeez, she had to look at me just then. It’s sour, maybe too aged. Or rather, underage.”

Lydia laughs, leaning into his arm. “That so, Mister Stilinski?”

“I have never had anything so gross before.”

“Surely.”

Stiles huffs. “Besides, take it easy on your stomach, next thing you know, our child will birth early just to complain as to why you were feeding such a horrid cup of shit to him.”

“I thought we agreed it’d be a girl?”

“Well I don’t remember which one of us was the dominant hand when it was conceived so we’ll just switch until he or she or whatever they might be is born.”

“Am I birthing a cat?”

“To hell if I know, witches are a strange ordeal. I never thought I’d have to be concerned that my first born and heir will be a cat of sorts or something.”

“Oh please.” She shakes her head and she smiles sort of. “I thought Theo would be coming tonight?”

“I did too… I imagine something must’ve came up.”

Lydia nods and it’s not unlikely for Theo to have something better to do. “Let’s go back inside, at this rate I could have conceived another child.”

“Oh  _ please. _ ”

 

\---

His heart is fleeting his body in a way that it really shouldn’t be, and he likes sitting there way too much. Of course, he should be at the party, with his friends, with  _ Stiles  _ but he’s not. He’s standing right here, in this room, with lips languidly pressed to the solid bone of his jaw. And he thinks his heart would leap from his chest if it could. His body would soar if it had the opportune. 

There were duties to self and duty to mind and duty to reputation- yet no duty at all mattered so much as the feeling of the lips of the other on his own.  _ Love  _ is the only word to describe it, but only fools fall in love. 


	65. Chapter 59

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Voting time !!! A bit of a time skip too

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I took my AP test yesterday and today is my birthday but I got to write the chapter !!!

Stiles stood at the ballot, staring at his options and he knows people would know who he voted for, there was no protection of voting. And he’s not supposed to be a republican, nobody in the south wanted Lincoln, wanted their system to be eradicated, but Stiles knew that this was no way to live, that things were just getting worse, and that they would only continue. Lincoln could fix, lincoln provided hope. He hardly hesitates to put the x next to Lincoln's name before moving on. He goes on to Stokers, walking on upstairs to the apartment. 

“You voted,” Stoker notes.

“Yes, I did.” Stiles nods, pouring himself a glass of scotch on the rocks, before sitting down on the couch. 

“And?”

“I voted for Lincoln.”

“ _ Why _ on earth did you do that?”

“Before John Adams left to write the Constitution, Jane stopped him and told him, ‘don’t forget the ladies’ and unlike him, I didn’t forget mine.”

Stoker laughs, and he laughs long, Stiles waiting for the words to come after, smirking just slightly as he tilts the cup leisurely and sips. His ring glints in the sun and the glass seems to glitter with the whiskey slushed against the ice. 

Stoker calms down in a huff of coughs. “Everyone who knows, will know you did it to spite your father. And you, I  _ know _ you Stiles. You and her would not get along so well if you didn’t agree with her ideals. She saw right through you, you’re not a Southern Democrat, no way. Nobody thinks the way you do, feels the way about this way of life like your family does-”

“I will stand by my opinions and my nation as I see fit. I know that perhaps Breckinridge could do the job but he won’t do the job right. He is a southern thinker, a slave owner, and frankly he probably will resign with terror as he sees fit on the black men and women, free or not. It is a time of progress for this country, no matter who feels it to be or not. We can no longer forgive and forget. In Hamilton’s time, while he was no free saint, they said Slavery would be a fading way of economy and soon all blacks would be free. And so what changed? Things changed, and the economy grew cheap, and rather than pay they enslaved. And I’m not saying that I won’t stand beside my home, because I will, but I’m saying that it doesn’t matter what I see or what I feel to other people because simply, they will always be stuck in their ways. And those who stuck their noses up at me for being posh or going to school are the same lot that would so damn well talk about me for voting for who I see fit. I don’t owe anything to anyone if that’s what you’re intending Mr. Stoker.”

“Well who crawled up  _ your  _ ass?”

Stiles huffed, clinking the ice to the almost empty glass. “Your father, I’m presuming,” SToker provides with a smirk and Stiles rolls his eyes. 

“Maybe… I  _ guess.  _ But he’s a cause well lost.”

“Will you fight?”

“What?”

“When the war breaks out, will you fight?”

“For whom?”

“The south?”

Stiles looks up at stoker, and he had never considered the prospect of fighting before. Fighting a war to protect virginia, fighting a war to protect the stuck ways of the terrible south. He looks up with great contemplation and he scoffs. “That’s a battle for the day it comes… if ti comes.”

Stoker nods. “It’s not a law to speak out on the tension is it?”

“It is, technically. Just mentioning anything on the sectionalist divide applies to the Gag rule. Keep your mouth shut, tie the loose ends on the towel and gnaw at it. The issue must be condemned.”

Stoker nods, stiles gets up and refills his glass. “Temperance boy.”

“Tempered enough. Lydia can’t drink, but  _ I  _ surely can.”

\--

Theo wasn’t so bold as Stiles. He stands in the line, fanning himself with his hat. It may be november but it never failed to be hot in South Carolina. He feels as though he is required to stand beside his country. Mostly because there were no other options. No other places to go. And he thinks, how it is strange that the south feels as if it is in itself it’s own nation and how he feels a duty to vote for the wrong man. 

_ It would make no difference anyways..  _ And he steps up to the ballot when he does and his hand shakes as he takes the pen and he marks his vote for Breckinridge because that is what is expected of him, that is what he has to do, that is what he owes to his father or so pay his dues, and to peter or so help him. Right, so help him.

He thinks if there is a war, he’ll fight it to get shot. And if he gets shot, he thinks he’ll die instantly of gratitude for the man who did it. A suicide mission of sorts. But half hearted anyways. The world would turn itself over, and the war would go on, but he would be peacefully escaped into the hands of a God that could protect him. For once, truly protect him, in a state where no other could hurt him, because at last, in the end, for eternity, he would be finally free, finally free. 

 

\--

 

Stiles was home late that day, hungover on alcohol and work, and he joins lydia in their bedroom where she’s reading. “Why are you so late?”

“I spent my afternoon sulking and drinking and reading through cases.”

“Naturally,” she replies laughing. “You seem to always make the paper somehow. Everyone knows you voted for lincoln.”

“Everyone knows that I was never for Breckinridge.”

“The world is ready for change,” Lydia agrees.

“Yes… the world is ready for change,” he repeats, kissing her head softly. “And you must be ready for bed. Put the paper away, rest your head darling.” 

“And don’t forget to rest yours. All good minds need a bit of rest, and all good minds need a place to stay the night.” 


End file.
